


Scale of Dragon, Tooth of Wolf

by ebonlock



Series: Tooth of Wolf [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/M, M/M, Murder Mystery, Post - Half-Blood Prince
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-05-17
Updated: 2012-06-06
Packaged: 2017-11-05 12:33:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death
Chapters: 22
Words: 69,933
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/406435
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ebonlock/pseuds/ebonlock
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><b>Disclaimer:</b> Yes, yes the characters and world belong to JK Rowling, but I had this idea, you see… Anyway, I’ll be returning most of them completely unharmed.</p><p>A very clever serial killer is loose in the wizarding world and their weapon of choice is poison.  Not just any poisons, but fiendishly complex and utterly cruel concoctions that are undetectable until it's too late.  Remus Lupin is drawn into the case and soon finds himself in need of Britain's foremost Potions Master to find the killer before it's too late.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is a murder mystery, and you can’t have one of those without a few bodies stacking up, right? Yes people are going to die and things might get a bit gruesome from time to time. Sorry about that.
> 
>  **Dedication:** This story wouldn’t exist if not for my pal Raven, she inspired it from beginning to end and has been my most enthusiastic supporter, reader and editor. It’s the longest thing I’ve ever tried to write in my life and without her polite requests for more please, I’d have given up on it long ago. Another big thank you to Aelfsciene and Tersa who let me bounce sometimes odd and wacky ideas off them. And I can’t forget my buddy Erik, without whom the best part of the finale wouldn’t exist.
> 
> I’d also like to personally thank anyone who actually manages to make it all the way through this monster of a story. It’s a bit of a marathon, but hopefully an enjoyable one.
> 
> And lastly, a big shout out to Arthur Conan Doyle whose Sherlock Holmes stories I’ve worshipped since childhood.
> 
> This is me moving more of my fic over to AO3. Love it? Hate it? Comment me.

_“Round about the caldron go;_  
In the poison’d entrails throw.—  
Toad, that under cold stone,  
Days and nights has thirty-one  
Swelter’d venom sleeping got,  
Boil thou first i’ the charmed pot! 

_Double, double, toil and trouble;  
Fire, burn; and caldron, bubble._

_Scale of dragon, tooth of wolf,_  
Witch’s mummy, maw and gulf  
Of the ravin’d salt-sea shark,  
Root of hemlock digg’d i’ the dark,  
Liver of blaspheming Jew,  
Gall of goat, and slips of yew  
Sliver’d in the moon’s eclipse,  
Nose of Turk, and Tartar’s lips,  
Finger of birth-strangl’d babe  
Ditch-deliver’d by a drab,--  
Make the gruel thick and slab:  
Add thereto a tiger’s chaudron,  
For the ingredients of our caldron. 

_Double, double, toil and trouble;  
Fire, burn; and caldron, bubble.”_

_Macbeth, Act IV, Scene 1_

Lucinda Glib pursed her lips into a tight rosy line. “Remus you’re looking a bit off today, dear, are you feeling all right?”  
I nodded, quickly stuffing the remains of my egg sandwich in my mouth and attempting to look utterly enrapt in the latest Apparation license application to land on my desk. I don’t know why I bothered, the woman was more pernicious than a head cold.

“I just thought,” she paused and leaned in closer, peering at me over the rims of her reading glasses. “Well, I just thought what with the news about that poor Mr. Longbottom...”

I nearly choked on the mush of egg and bread in my mouth before cramming it to one side and managing a hasty, “What? Neville? What news?”

Her eyes widened and she reached out to pat my hand gently. “Oh dear, I’m so sorry to be the one to tell you this...I’d thought...Well, I should have known better, you’re not one to gossip, dear. But, well it’s been all over the Ministry today. You see I was speaking to Tabitha down in Improper Use of Magic, and she says Dorothy in Magical Law Enforcement mentioned that three full squads of Aurors had been dispatched to Mr. Longbottom’s home this morning after his wife reported that there’d been an ‘accident’. Hmph, accident my foot, three squads of Aurors don’t show up on someone’s doorstep if all that’s happened is they’ve splinched themselves beyond repair or tumbled off a broom mid-air.” She shook her head, setting her light brown curls bouncing. “Nobody’s seen that many sent out since...well, since you know when.”

Swallowing with some difficulty, I asked softly, “Do you know what happened?”

“No,” she quickly looked around as if checking for extendable ears, “but I thought, as your wife was one of those sent out that perhaps you...”

“Nymphadora? No, she...I mean I haven’t spoken to her since we left for work this morning.” I sat, stunned, the sandwich a dead weight in my stomach. “I suppose he’s...I mean, he must be...”

She nodded solemnly, and her hazel eyes softened a bit. “Did you know him very well?”

“Yes, yes I did. He was a remarkable young man. A real hero of the Second War. We couldn’t have...” I couldn’t go on, my throat squeezed shut and my eyes had gone a bit hazy with tears. Lucinda handed me a handkerchief and gave me a gentle pat on the shoulder before returning to her own desk to tackle an ever growing inbox, teetering on the brink of collapse. I took a moment to collect myself, it wouldn’t do to fall apart at work. I was already seen as the office charity case, poor sickly Lupin, tolerated despite my monthly indisposition which had become a matter of “don’t ask, don’t tell” as far as my superiors were concerned. I brought in a little income in my part time work, managed to hold onto the tatters of my self-respect, and convinced myself that I was as content as I could ever hope to be.

I had learned early in life that contentment was a rare and precious achievement, and not to be squandered. I had also learned that pride was a luxury well beyond my means. 

But what did any of that matter? Neville Longbottom, a sweet natured young man who’d done more good in his short life than most would in twice the time, was dead. And three squads of Aurors had been called in to investigate. I found myself praying to whatever deity might be listening that his end had at least been a relatively quick and painless one. I couldn’t bring myself to consider the alternatives.

****

I left work precisely on time. My health often necessitated relying on others to cover for me after a particularly trying full moon, and I found it utterly impossible to justify missing time otherwise. Best not to press my luck when it came to the good will of my coworkers, and it simply wasn’t worth the resulting, inevitable guilt.

The Atrium was full of bustling witches and wizards, most heading for the outgoing floos. No one so much as glanced at me, I’d become comfortably nondescript, as uninteresting to those passing by as a potted philodendron. Just another Ministry employee heading home after a long day’s paper pushing. There’d been a time I’d have happily parted with a major organ to achieve that kind of anonymity. 

I was home myself a few seconds later, brushing myself off and chucking my robes onto the nearest chair. With a wave of my wand I set the tea kettle to boiling and noted with a quick sniff that Nymphadora had, yet again, neglected to clear out the litter pan before flooing in that morning. I sighed and cast a quick scourgify, sparing an annoyed glance at Lord Whimsy. He just gazed up at me adoringly, licking his lips when I wasn’t immediately forthcoming with his dinner. Of course the wretched little beast knew I’d bend to his will, and of course I did so, putting out a tin of something vaguely tuna-like. The little black Manx purred contentedly and wagged his stump of a tail like an overexcited puppy as he dug in.

It’s not as if I blamed him really, it wasn’t his job to clean up after himself. And he certainly hadn’t begged me for nearly a month straight with assurances that I wouldn’t be expected to do a single thing where he was concerned. And, of course, he was rather nice to have around on those long, lonely full moon nights. He loved nothing better than crawling up on top of me, curling up and purring himself to sleep with the Wolf.

He was a sweet enough little fellow, but I’d never been one for pets. I’d always had enough of a job just looking after myself, but Nymphadora could be quite persuasive, or perhaps more accurately, quite persistent. Her youth, health and natural stamina have always given her a vast advantage over me, all she’s ever needed to do was simply wait for me to tire out. 

Not a terribly romantic perspective, but an honest one. Perhaps I’d finally started to grow up a bit, learned from my experiences with Sirius in particular. It was all well and good to love someone in spite of their faults and weaknesses, but it was senseless to blind oneself to those faults in the name of love. Had I learned that just a few years earlier...Well, it didn’t do to dwell on old pain, life was all too eager to provide new sources, after all.

I made myself a steaming cup of Earl Grey and toyed with the idea of heating up a bit of the previous night’s pot roast. It had come out rather well, if I did say so myself. Not that I was hungry in the slightest, it was more habit than any real desire. I suspected his Lordship would end up benefiting far more from it than I would, the little wretch.

I leaned over to scoop him up in my arms, then carried him and my tea into the living room for a nice sit down. My plush, slightly ragged armchair welcomed me back with a soft groan that told me just how much strain the repair spells holding the poor old thing together were under. I should update them, it was on my list of “to do” items, but somehow I just never seemed to get around to it. There were too many other chores to do, messes to be cleaned up, cats to be fed, and occasionally books to be read. All too occasionally, as it turned out. The last book I’d been steadily working my way through had at least 3 months of dust collecting on its cover. 

Whimsy purred rapturously and danced across my legs in blissful circles. I patted him and leaned further back into the cushions, the tension seeping out of me with every slow, deep breath. I must have fallen asleep shortly thereafter, as I awoke with a start at the sound of the floo activating. My tea was stone cold, and Whimsy was nowhere in sight. I blinked as Nymphadora dusted herself off and smiled apologetically, “Sorry, luv, didn’t mean to wake you.”

“S’all right,” I replied, scrubbing my face quickly in an effort to come fully awake. “Long day?”

She nodded and chucked her robes on the sofa, following them down with a weary sigh. “We all stopped at the Cauldron for a few drinks after...” Her face went unnaturally still and pale, I hadn’t seen her like this since the war. “You must have heard about Neville.” I nodded slowly and watched her eyes slowly change from hazel to blue-gray, it was a subtle indicator of just how horrified she’d been by the day’s events, and my heart sank. “Oh Remus, it was...”

“What happened to him?”

Covering her face she moaned softly, “He’s dead, he...I’ve never seen anything like it before. Even in the Final Battle when the Death Eaters were vying with Dementors to see which of them could be the most vicious, even then there were limits. Avada Kedavaras and the Dementor’s Kiss were at least quick...clean...What happened to Neville wasn’t.” She met my eyes then, and I had the sudden, intense desire to beg her not to tell me after all. “The Chief Necromancer is performing the necropsy as we speak, not that there’s any doubt about why he died. His guts were....it looked like he’d melted from the inside out. Remus,” her voice broke and her lips trembled, “who would do such a thing? The war is over, the Death Eaters have all been rounded up or killed. And Neville never had an enemy in his life. Who could have hated him enough to do that to him?”

I shook my head sadly, then moved over to the sofa to wrap an arm around her and pull her close. “I don’t know, Dora, I just don’t know.”

“I’m going to find them,” her jaw jutted forward, and her face set into harsher, more angular lines, “I’m going to find this bastard.”

I leaned my chin against the top of her head and just continued to hold her until she relaxed a bit. “Are you hungry?”

“I’m not sure I’m ever going to be hungry again,” she replied, wrapping her arms around me more snugly. “Mmm, this is nice, seems like forever since we just curled up together like this. I wish...”

Sighing, I turned my head away, I was too tired, much too tired for this conversation.

She drew back a bit to look up at me. “I still love you, Remus.”

“I know that, dear, I know that. But I’m afraid that doesn’t make it any easier.”

“Why not? Why can’t we just...”

I pulled away from her, gently, but firmly. “It’s late and you no doubt have an early morning. We should get some sleep, don’t you think?”

She slumped back on the couch and shook her head, staring down at her hands sadly. She fiddled with her wedding ring absently before saying, “I...I think I’ll stay up for a bit longer. You go ahead.”

“Right. Good night then.” I moved quietly into the bedroom, Whimsy hot on my heels. At least I wouldn’t be sleeping entirely alone as my wife spent another evening dozing on the couch after too many butter beers. I told myself it was for the best, that somehow it made more sense that way. I’d been telling myself that for a very long time, it seemed.


	2. Chapter 2

She was gone by the time I was up and about. The litter pan was, of course, full. Fair enough, I had the day off and I could spend at least part of it puttering about the house, tidying up and perhaps getting a few items checked off that monumental to do list. Then it was off to the Registry for my Wolfsbane potion.

If the Second War had proven anything to the Ministry it was that keeping better track of the werewolf population on the British Isles was in everyone’s best interests. Wolfsbane wasn’t exactly inexpensive to supply every registered lycanthrope with but when considering how much damage the werewolves were capable of when left to their own devices without it, it seemed a rather small price to pay.

It still felt a bit odd to have a reliable source, after so many years of struggling and scraping by. Not that the reliable source was always necessarily the best source. Indeed, it seemed sometimes that the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures had scooped up every second rate brewer left alive to muddle their way through the Wolfsbane potion. I’d woken up far too many mornings after a full moon transformation to find my mouth tingling or numb from too much aconite in the mix.

At least now that the dangerous lycanthropes had either been killed off or imprisoned, the rest of us had a chance to start living something akin to a normal life. It helped that the perpetual tug of war between the Beast and Beings departments of the Ministry was a thing of the past. We now fell exclusively under the jurisdiction of the Beings department, and the Werewolf Support Services actually were living up to their title for the first time since their creation. 

I puttered around the kitchen for a bit, fed Whimsy and myself then took the floo straight back to the Ministry. It made no sense to postpone the inevitable, and the sooner it was over the better. Nodding to a few acquaintances, I hurried to the Being department, currently located on the second floor. I smiled affably to Lydia at the front desk. She was a pleasant enough young witch who never failed to offer me a nice cup of tea or a glass of water after I’d managed to choke back the inevitably horrid Wolfsbane. The office was currently bustling with lycanthropes all patiently queuing up for their monthly dose. No matter how early I managed to make it in, at least two-dozen had always beaten me to it.

I joined the line and mustered up a half-hearted smile for the young woman ahead of me. She didn’t have the strength to return it, her blue eyes hazy with the misery of an imminent transformation. Her hair was limp and poorly trimmed, and she ran a nervous hand through it as though all too conscious of that fact but too weary to do more than acknowledge it. Her plain denim dress hung on her bony frame unflatteringly, but it covered her from neck to ankles, which was what I suspected its true purpose was.

She shifted to face me a little and chewed her bottom lip. I assumed my most scholarly, less threatening than your average teddy bear persona and tried the smile again. Ducking my head slightly to look her directly in the eyes I murmured a soft, “Hello.” She flinched and I tried again even more gently, “Hello there. Nice day for it, hmm?”

Frowning slightly she stammered, “I...I don’t k-know. This is, I mean it’s my first time.”

“Ah, I wondered why I hadn’t seen you here before. You get quite used to seeing the same faces month after month.” The girl attempted a smile without much success so I pressed on. “Well there’s nothing to it really, that lovely witch just behind the counter there will check you in. You’re wearing your bracelet, yes?” She thrust her arm out instantly to show it to me as if she were a little girl showing off her latest artistic creation. “That’s that, then. You’ll get your dose of Wolfsbane which you’ll need to take here, then she’ll make a note on your records and you’re all set for today. Then back again every day until the full moon. After that I’m sorry to say that we’ll have three weeks before we can look forward to seeing one another again.” I held out my hand and added, “I’m Remus by the way.”

A few seconds passed before she reached out to take it in her own small, slightly damp one. “Bella.”

“It’s very nice to meet you, Bella.”

“H-how long...I mean, it may be rude to ask this but...how long have you been a...uh, a...”

“Lycanthrope?” I supplied helpfully. “Ever since I was a young child, I’m afraid.”

Her eyes went round with surprise. “Really? I didn’t think...my mum always said that you- I mean, our kind couldn’t expect to live very long. Everyone at St. Mungo’s acted like it was a death sentence. Mind you,” she leaned in a bit closer and all but whispered, “sometimes I rather wish it had been.”

There was some part of me that wished I could argue with that statement, but Merlin knows I’ve spent far too many mornings after praying for the sweet release of death. “How long were you at St. Mungo’s?”

“Three months, but it seemed like so much longer. And then my family sent me off to Hungary, they’ve got a special clinic there that’s been doing a great deal of research on lycanthropy. I think they were still hoping that somehow there’d be a cure. I think I was too.”

“But now you’re not?”

Her tiny body sagged wearily. “It’s been almost a year now. Sometimes I think...I think they’ve begun to wish I hadn’t survived that bite.” She waved one hand as if warding off what she’d just uttered. “I shouldn’t speak that way, I know I shouldn’t they’ve been wonderful, more wonderful than I deserve. But when they look at me now they don’t see me all they see is an illness, a threat, a...a...”

“Burden?” The word escaped me before I could contain it behind a barrier of platitudes and encouragements. It may have left a bitter taste in my mouth, but I’d long ago realized that bitterness was the only passion left to me. 

“You do understand.” A little of the weight seemed to lift from her at that. “I don’t want to be a burden, not to them or anyone. I just want to live my life...a normal life. Or as normal as I can make it, I suppose.”

“I think that’s the most any of us can hope for really. You’ve taken a good first step. And you know the people here can help you with housing and even work if you’re game to try it. Being a werewolf hasn’t stopped me from having a nice flat, a good job, and a lovely wife. It needn’t stop you from achieving your goals either.”

“And if one of my goals was to be a mother?” She blushed hotly, then looked away. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have mentioned that.”

“No, it’s perfectly all right, and it’s natural that you should ask.” I placed a hand on one of her slender shoulders and she relaxed marginally. “Unfortunately, though our illness makes it impossible for us to produce our own biological children who wouldn’t carry our curse, I’m quite sure it’s just a matter of time before it becomes legal for us to adopt. And there are so many children who need a good home these days.”

“A matter of time,” she echoed softly. “Yes...Well I suppose I needn’t worry about children when I haven’t as much as a boyfriend, anyway.”

“Next please.” a voice called out sharply, startling us both. Bella looked about confused until I tapped her shoulder and pointed to the desk. She gave me another nervous smile, tucked a lock of hair behind her ear and stepped forward.

“Good luck,” I called out, “I’ll see you next month.”

She nodded quickly and all but ran up to the desk. I followed shortly, and all too soon I was fighting my gag reflex and hoping the Wolfsbane wouldn’t make a repeat appearance. Somehow, as unbelievable as it might seem, they’d found a way to make the potion taste even worse. Now that was an accomplishment, I had to admit; a diabolical accomplishment, but an accomplishment nonetheless.

I left through the main entrance, a bit of fresh air was exactly what I needed to help settle my rebellious stomach. A young man standing on the corner held out a leaflet with a smile and I accepted both without hesitation. Taking a pamphlet never hurt anyone, and if it made his life a little easier or more pleasant, so be it. I glanced down after a few paces and read ‘Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Death Eaters’. Ah, one of those. I chucked it into a nearby bin with a shake of my head. Two years after the Second War and already people were starting to forget the horror, the atrocities.

“What’s wrong with people these days? Not a brain to share between the lot of them!” I growled, then stopped short abruptly. “Oh Merlin, I sound exactly like my father.”

***

I’ve given it a great deal of thought and it seems to me that when your wife commits adultery there are really only two rational ways to respond. The first is to pretend either that it never happened, or that you don’t know or care. The other is to accept that it happened and allow yourself to go through the normal grieving process.

If you choose the latter path your first reaction is generally disbelief. This stage is much easier to remain in if you’ve had no direct evidence of the affair, rather you are basing your belief on the circumstantial. Perhaps she starts spending more time in the company of a certain man, or they develop an intense friendship that leaves you feeling abandoned, confused and hurt. Or maybe a friend engages in a bit of innuendo about the two behaving romantically at a local pub. 

Of course when one walks into one’s own bedroom and catches them in the act, as I did, disbelief is a rather short-lived stage.  


I’m reasonably sure mine lasted for all of ten seconds.

That’s when stage two began, pain. They were both exquisitely contrite about the whole thing, and achingly repentant. It was a hideous, horrible mistake and it would never, never happen again.

Not having been born just the day prior to this discovery, I asked a rather obvious question of the two as they huddled on the bed, clinging to the sheets and what remained of their dignity. “How long has this been going on?”

I should never have asked, I suppose, I certainly didn’t want to know. A thoughtful lie, carefully and convincingly constructed would have been most welcome at that point. “Why this is the first time. We were drunk and randy and it all just got out of hand.” I could’ve lived with that; perhaps, in time, even accepted it.

Sadly, my wife has never excelled at the art of lying. Her face, changeable as it was, just wasn’t suited to the practice, and I read my answer there long before it passed her lips. “Two months.”

Two months. Two months under the facade of normality, I immediately revised my opinion of Dora’s abilities where deception was concerned. I fell back against the door jam, my legs unaccountably weak, and my hands shaking for want of a wand.  


And that was when I slid effortlessly into the next stage, anger.

I had the most intense mental image of transforming right then and there. No more sensitive, gentle Remus; only Moony, with sharp, bright fangs and ripping claws. I welcomed the thought of tucking myself deep inside my bestial half and letting it tear the two to pieces. Moony howled with glee in the darkest recesses of my soul, and for the first time in my life I embraced him like a long lost brother.

And why not, I wondered, hadn’t I been called a monster for the better part of my life? What if, just this once, I acted like one? It was a pointless question, I knew good and bloody well that I wasn’t going to attack either my wife or the son of a dear friend. Civility was ingrained so deeply in my psyche that if I were I so inclined, I’d undoubtedly attribute it to genetics.

They both must have known that from the very start. Did it blunt the thrill of the affair, I wondered vaguely, when all they had to fear from me was some pathetic appeal to their conscience? Guilt was the only weapon I could so much as consider using against them. It wasn’t much, and a better man would no doubt have had the strength to turn his back on such a strategy, but I was and am one thing above all else...weak.

Oddly enough, there’s a certain strange power to be found in weakness. As I slid to the floor, limp and all but lifeless I realized that while her lover had fled at the first opportunity, Dora remained frozen on the bed. Her eyes stayed on me, as murky as a stagnant pool, and her hair had turned a muddy brown. It seemed that she was concerned about the pain she’d caused me, in her own careless way. She pulled on a dressing gown and knelt beside me. I knew then, with absolute clarity that she wouldn’t leave me unless I sent her away. She wanted to go, but she wouldn’t, not without my permission. 

She’d honestly rather stay with the broken man all but fetal in the doorway of his own bedroom, than to face the guilt of abandoning me for her handsome young lover. Oh she could cheat behind my back, sleep with another man and lie to me about it without batting an eye...but she felt responsible for me and I could use that.

And so from that day forward I kept her close, I might no longer have her love, but I’d take her pity if it kept me from being alone just a little while longer.

I’d grown too used to companionship, to comfort, to a warm pair of hands helping me up off the cold floor after a change. I wasn’t willing to give that up. If I couldn’t have a wife, I’d settle for a nurse. There were only so many concessions life could ask of me, on this one I refused to yield.


	3. Chapter 3

I don’t know what it was that drew me to the Necromancy Department of the Ministry, I suppose I’d always been curious about those red robed wizards and witches who specialized in the study of death by magical means. Dora was keeping me abreast of the little information that the Aurors had managed to dredge up, but one thing was horrifyingly clear, they were no nearer to discovering Neville’s killer than they had been a week earlier. Perhaps it was simply that I wanted to feel as if I were involved and contributing in some small way, though what I thought an Apparations Licensing agent could possibly offer I honestly couldn’t say.

Still, another day sitting at my desk imagining Neville’s last moments on earth was driving me utterly mad. A brief tea time trip to ask a harmless question or two couldn’t possibly hurt. 

I entered the morgue with an absurd degree of trepidation. I’d seen death before, during the first and Second Wars, and I’d been responsible for more than a few during the Final Battle. And yet, there I was creeping inside a Ministry department as if I expected to find Lord Voldemort awaiting me. It was a stupid, childish reaction, but I couldn’t quite control my innate fear.  


They were just dead bodies, nothing more terrifying than that. Unfortunately, no matter how many times I reassured myself of that very thing, I still found it bloody difficult to take more than a step or two into the cool, quiet, well lit rooms that made up the morgue. There was nothing gloomy or particularly unnerving in general about the place. It was a clean space, fairly open, though of course there were no windows. A large door at the back must have led to the vault where the bodies were kept. I’d heard they used elaborate chilling and preservation charms to maintain the corpses until the investigations were complete and they could be released for burial, cremation, or some other form of dissolution.

Thinking about the specifics of the magics necessary for the study of supernatural deaths helped take my mind off its more macabre wanderings. I wondered if the tables too were charmed similarly, and it allowed me to move a little further into the space to examine them. There were definitely runes inscribed along the edge of each, sadly I was complete rubbish at them, always had been. Bending down to get a closer look, I was taken completely by surprise when a voice spoke up behind me, “I hadn’t realized they added our humble establishment to the Ministry tour.”

I nearly leapt out of my skin, and gave a highly undignified yelp of surprise. Straightening, I whirled around and stumbled back against the very table I’d just been studying. I felt a shock of cold and pulled away quickly. “Oh...I...h-hello.”

The woman standing behind me was tall and slender with short, curly blonde hair and gray eyes. She wasn’t overwhelmingly attractive, not the kind who would draw many eyes in a crowd, but pleasant, confident, and possessed of a warm and winning smile. Not precisely the sort I would expect to greet me in a morgue, yet there she was, red robes, gloves and all. She put me immediately at my ease. “If I’d known I’d be having guests I’d have baked a cake or something.”

“I’m so sorry, usually I’m not this rude, I promise.” I returned her smile to the best of my ability, and strode forward to introduce myself properly. “Forgive me, my name is Remus Lupin, I work in the Apparations Licensing department.”

She took my hand in hers and shook it firmly. “Very nice to meet you, Mr. Lupin, I’m Mina, Mina Wildersock, Chief Necromancer. Not that I mind the company, but I do have to wonder what one of the folks from upstairs is doing all the way down here in my domain. Just passing by and thought you’d drop in to say hello, at tea time no less?”

I must say, I found her accent quite charming. It was entirely too rare that I got to speak to anyone from across the Pond these days. “Not exactly, no. I, well, this may sound rather odd, but you see I...I was, well an acquaintance of Neville Longbottom’s.”

Her eyes widened, but only for a moment, and she quickly covered her reaction with a professional mask. “I see. You must know I’m not allowed to discuss...”

“Yes, I know, I do.” I interrupted with a weary sigh. “And I wouldn’t want to ask you to do anything improper, it’s just that, you see I was his teacher once. After that, his colleague in the War. We fought together, nearly died together, we lost touch over the past year but I can’t...I can’t just stand by and do nothing...”

“I sympathize, Mr. Lupin, I truly do, but I don’t know you from Merlin and I...”

“Of course, of course. Look, I have several forms of identification...”

She held up a hand, then said, “Wait, I think I do know you, you’re...forgive me, you’re a werewolf, aren’t you?”

I blinked in astonishment. “I am, how did you know?”

Smiling, she reached out to finger my lycanthrope identification bracelet. “I’m a Necromancer, I’ve trained myself to pay attention to details. You never know what might help you identify a body or lead you to a murderer. The reason I ask is that I actually have heard about a werewolf hero of the Second War, a member of the Order of the Phoenix, right?”

“I...yes, that’s right. Were you here during that time?”

“Oh no, I was still back home in the States during all that, thank goodness. I’m not much of a fighter, I’m afraid, but I did follow the news. And I’ve heard stories since, from friends and coworkers over here. The way some of them talk about the Order of the Phoenix you’d think your bunch single-handedly won the war on your own.” She grinned and shook my hand again, more enthusiastically. “Wow, I’ve never met an honest to god war hero before. This is, well it’s quite an honor.”

I blushed hotly and demurred, “I wouldn’t go that far. I played my part, such as it was, but I assure you that ‘hero’ is a complete exaggeration.”

“That’s not what I’ve heard.” She leaned forward and murmured, “Don’t sell yourself short, Mr. Remus Lupin. You’re a hero, and that’s that. And as I find myself being asked for a favor from a bonafide hero, I do believe I could manage to stretch the rules just a teeny bit. Of course, you will remember that you heard nothing from me.” She placed a finger to her lips, then mimed casting a silencing hex.

Grinning, I returned just as softly, “No one will hear a word of it from me, I swear.”

“To be honest, I have something of an ulterior motive here. Let’s say that the Aurors and the chief inspector do not exactly fill me with confidence. I realize they’re good people doing the best they can under the circumstances, but I happen to think we could use all the help we can get. It’s also been my experience in past investigations that a new perspective never hurts. And...I have another reason to want to get to the bottom of this, I mean beyond my job...I actually know Mrs. Longbottom slightly, she seemed really nice. A little vague, not quite all the lights on upstairs if you know what I mean, but still nice.” 

“How did you meet?”

Mina smiled ruefully. “Ah, well you see shortly after I arrived in your country I was a very ambitious mid-level necromancer who jumped at the chance to do an interview with the local press. However, not being really up on said local press I failed to realize just what kind of questions I’d likely be asked by a reporter from the Quibbler.”

I couldn’t help chuckling a little at that. “Oh dear. And did no one warn you?”

“You’re joking, right? My coworkers actually encouraged me. You know to this day they’ve got a copy of the article ‘Is the Ministry creating an army of killer ghouls?’ posted on the break room message board. I swear I couldn’t show my face for weeks after that one.” She laughed and shrugged, “Well live and learn, right? The whole thing did teach me a valuable lesson about humility, which I took to heart.”

“No grudge against Luna or the Quibbler then?”

“Oh hell no, I actually started subscribing to the Quibbler after that, you know, for a laugh. And Luna and I met for lunch a few times. She was always a fascinating conversationalist.”

“Yes, she certainly was.” My words dwindled away at the thought of Luna spending her remaining days in a trauma-induced fog, wandering the lonely halls of St. Mungo’s.

Mina reached out and gently touched my shoulder, I’d forgotten that people who weren’t prone to think of me first in terms of my curse, could just reach out and touch me without hesitation. It was odd, both pleasant and terrifying at once. She smiled and said, “I’m so sorry, it seems you were closer to her than I was. But even if she and I weren’t bosom friends, I can tell you that I’d like nothing more than to find out what happened to her husband. Unfortunately, I don’t know that I’m going to be able to offer much in the way of evidence.” Sighing, the Necromancer ran a hand through her tangle of blonde curls. “This is so far out of my area of expertise it’s not even funny. Give me a straightforward whammy and I’ll trace it back to the offender’s wand before you can say Quadpot. Nobody can touch me when it comes to tracking spell damage to a specific wand core, nobody”

I found myself believing her, you didn’t become the Ministry’s Chief Necromancer without some serious accreditation, a large dollop of brilliance, and more than a little self-confidence. I believed Ms. Wildersock possessed more than her fair share of all three. “I don’t suppose you’ve been able to find any residual traces of magic? Anything that might possibly help us solve this?”

“Nothing, and I do mean nothing. That body’s cleaner than a newborn Muggle. Nobody’s aimed an offensive spell at him in at least a year. I’d stake my life on it. I’ve been over the house as well, nothing out of the ordinary. Each and every spell cast in that house can either be traced to Luna or Neville’s wands. Whoever did this seems to have used nothing save the poison that took his life.” She walked over to a nearby counter and lifted a vial of pale yellow liquid. Showing it to me she asked, “Know what this is?”

My lip curled unconsciously. “Um, well I know what I hope it’s not.”

She laughed, “It’s lemonade. What’s left of a glass that Neville was drinking shortly before he collapsed. That’s where I found the remains of the poison. It was a good thing Luna was taken from the house shortly after his death, I shudder to think what would’ve happened if we hadn’t found this stuff first.”

“Lemonade.”

“Yeah, it’s strong enough to mask the very slight aftertaste of the poison, clever. Now please don’t ask me how it got in there, because I’m afraid I can’t begin to answer that.” Mina paused and set the vial down. “If I were an Auror I’d be inclined to suspect Luna...”

“She’d never...” I began indignantly.

Holding up a hand in a placating manner, Mina continued, “Look, I’m sorry, but I’m just saying she is the obvious suspect. Now her reaction to the death coupled with the fact that she stood to gain absolutely nothing by killing her husband certainly helps to rule her out. But if it wasn’t her, then who? And how in the hell do we find them?”

“Well,” I returned more calmly, “I suppose finding out whether or not Neville had any enemies might be a start. I can’t imagine who could possibly hate him enough to do such a thing but I could certainly ask around. I do still have a few contacts amongst the Order, and...and I could talk to Luna if the medi-witches will allow it.”

“In the meantime, I’ll keep investigating the body and crime scene, though I think I’ve done just about all I can on that front. Then...well, then I’m going to start doing some serious research on toxicology. It’s too bad Neville was the victim, he’d have made a helluva resource. But barring that, well, I don’t suppose you’d know a good Potions Master, would you?”

“As a matter of fact,” I replied after a moment’s pause, “ I do.”

***

I pondered whether or not it would be productive in the slightest to contact Severus. On the one hand, he was the most brilliant Potions Master in Britain, and arguably in the world. On the other, he was a misanthropic bastard who wouldn’t give a damn that Neville had met such a gruesome fate, and was quite likely to turn down a request to aid the investigation simply because it came from me. This kept me dithering for well over a week. I excel at the fine art of dithering.

Finally, I wrote him a letter. Nothing fancy or overly dramatic, just a simple statement of the facts as I understood them. It was, as you might expect, a rather short letter. I kept trying to think of something to add to it, something that might sway the man towards assisting the Ministry, but that magical combination of words eluded me. With a sigh of resignation, I signed it R.J. Lupin, sealed it, and sent it off via owl post.

It was sheer foolishness to think I’d even get a response, but I will admit that I did feel a little knot of excitement every time an owl flew anywhere near our flat. Of course day after day passed and nothing arrived. I sincerely doubted he’d even bothered to read the letter in the first place. Then it occurred to me that perhaps it hadn’t made it to him after all.

Severus had been under house arrest for close to two years. He’d spent several months in Azkaban before the trial along with all the other Death Eaters who’d somehow managed to survive Voldemort’s ignomius end. Even without the Dementors in residence, I heard horror stories about the conditions and, sadly, the treatment of the prisoners by the guards and wardens. We were not as noble in victory as I and other likeminded individuals would have preferred, but few of us were inclined to do anything about the sadism and suffering to a group who’d excelled, until recently, in both themselves.

It was partially due to a certain degree of collective guilt over his treatment, and the earnest testimony of his former “victim” Albus Dumbledore that he was given a degree of freedom. I suppose it would’ve been rather indecent to jail a man for a murder that never really took place, in a manner of speaking at any rate. But precious few were willing to take that into consideration when it came to a name as infamous as Severus Snape. Perhaps he had only killed Albus at the great wizard’s command and under the very strict terms of an Unbreakable Vow, perhaps it had all been part of a grand plan designed to bring the Dark Lord down; but still he was...Snape. He was a vicious bastard who’d been responsible for more than his fair share of deaths, destruction and mayhem. And aside from Albus, or I should say Albus’ portrait, nobody else stepped forward to speak for him, whereas all too many were prepared to condemn him.

And so he remained, to this day, carefully locked away from the remainder of the wizarding world in his childhood home. I suppose there was a certain symmetry to that.

*****

Dora staggered in under a heap of scrolls, her second best overcoat, and a beleaguered expression that spoke volumes. “Good day?” I added a cheeky grin to the question and was rewarded with just a hint of a smile from her in return. She dropped her armload in the middle of the floor and flopped onto the loveseat beside me.

“Merlin’s balls I’m bloody exhausted! D’you have any idea how mad the Minister is driving us all on this case? What does he think we’re doing, sitting around twiddling our wands all day? We want to catch the damn killer every bit as much as he does. And some of us, more...some of us much more...” She gazed moodily into the kitchen, watching Whimsy pounce and wrestle with a tiny throw rug by the sink.

“No progress then?” I asked, squeezing her hand gently.

“As good as none. I suppose it’s early days yet, still we’ve got nothing, nothing at all to go on. Neville didn’t have an enemy in this world, there’s no reason anyone should possibly want to do him harm. It doesn’t make any sense at all. Unless...” she paused, looking grim, “unless there’s some Death Eaters still on the loose with a score to settle. But if so, why in the world start with him?”

“Maybe they’re working their way up to people like Scrimgeour.”

“They’re bloody well taking the scenic route, then. You know, if he weren’t safely locked away I’d be knocking on Snape’s door right about now. Merlin knows he made no secret of his feelings about Neville and if anyone could whip up a truly evil brew like the one that killed poor Longbottom, it’s him. But I just spoke to Kingsley this morning, poor bugger drew the short wand on that assignment, didn’t he? Keeping watch over that old bastard isn’t my idea of light duty, more like punishment if you ask me. Not that he complains, mind you. I think he’s just grateful to still have a place in the ranks after what happened to him during the war.”

“How’s he getting on? Seems like ages since we’ve seen him and that nice fiancee of his.”

“Uh, wife now, actually Remus. They were married two months back.”

“Oh,” I felt an all too familiar sensation in the pit of my stomach, that less than subtle reminder that I remained among the socially stigmatized in wizarding society. Being a gainfully employed, contributing member of that society had changed frighteningly little in reality. Nothing at all, really. And marriage, sadly, even less. “What a shame we missed it.” I felt worse for Dora, there was no reason she should have to suffer because of me.

“Well,” she looked away quickly. “You see, Remus, they were wed on a full moon and I thought it might be kinder not to...Everyone sent their love, it...it was a beautiful ceremony.”

“Of course.” There was no sense in dwelling on it. After all, it was hardly the first social engagement I’d had to miss due to my...predicament. And if I repeated that often enough, perhaps combining it with a mantra of, ‘She only meant well’, or ‘It was for the best, really’, I might actually believe it. Ten of those and I was able to speak again without the slightest trace of bitterness in my voice. “Of course. Well I’m delighted for them. She seemed quite lovely, and Kingsley’s just about the most deserving man I’ve ever met.”

“You should see him gettin’ on with that new leg of his, you’d barely notice it wasn’t real. Much better than old Moody’s. The Auror’s Benevolent Society went all out for him on that one. And if it weren’t for those ridiculously outdated Ministry rules he’d be back out in the field instead of baby sitting Snape.”

“On the bright side,” I returned, moving to pick up her scrolls and coat, “I would be willing to wager that the regular hours are much appreciated by his new wife. Not having to worry about him being dragged off in the middle of the night to face who knows what is undoubtedly a great relief.”

She watched me bustle around tidying up with a slight smile on her face. “Did you? Worry about me like that when we were first married, I mean? I never noticed. I mean, it’s not like you to complain.”

“No, it’s not like me to complain,” I agreed mildly, hanging up her coat. “And yes, yes I did worry. I still do, that much hasn’t changed, Dora...despite everything.”

Running a hand through her now lavender hair, she sighed, “Sometimes I wish you would complain. You just keep everything so bottled up. It’s always so hard to know what you think or feel, and impossible to know what you want.” Dora looked up at me searchingly, her eyes a startling cerulean, “Even now I sometimes wonder if you really want me here at all, or if I’m doing you more harm than good by staying.”

I froze, my chest suddenly tight. “The door’s always been open,” I managed finally, surprising myself with the discovery of one last hidden well of pride, “I’ve never forced you to stay. If you want to go...”

“I didn’t say that, Remus. I want to know what you want.”

“What does that matter?” The clenching sensation in my chest intensified. “When has it ever mattered?” I sounded nauseatingly self pitying, I knew that, but somehow I just couldn’t be bothered to mitigate it at the moment with a bit of my much vaunted maturity.

Her voice was so soft I had to strain to hear it over the hammering of my own heart. “It matters to me.”

“Does it? Really?”

“Yes. Yes, Remus, it matters. Please, just...just tell me what you want.”

I forced myself to take a deep breath, though it made my ribs positively ache. “What do I want?” Why did she have to ask me that now? Now when it was late, far too bloody late for it to possibly matter. Hell. Bloody fucking hell. “What I want is to discover who killed Neville and why, very much the same as you I expect.”

“Remus...”

“Could I possibly go through a few of these scrolls for you? I’ve plenty of time on my hands this weekend, and I could at least get things organized, take some notes for you and such. I’d like to be useful.”

She just looked at me for the longest time, that sad, careworn expression that made me feel like nothing so much as an abusive husband. Sometimes I wondered if hitting her, giving her an actual excuse to flee me righteously wouldn’t be an incredible kindness ultimately. Then I remembered I had no particular reason to wish to be kind and I gave her a bland smile. “I’ll tidy things up, why don’t you go on to bed? You look done in.”

“Are you....will you join me?” It was the hope there in her eyes that did me in, that made my indignation and pride shrivel within my chest. I had no right to punish her, none at all. She was just a weary, repentant child...and what did that make me?

“I think...I think I’ll stay up for a bit longer. Good night, Dora.”

After a moment she replied, “Good night, Remus.”

***

I was getting absolutely nowhere on my own, sadly, and having thoroughly perused Dora’s paperwork, I could see I wasn’t alone in my frustration. The murder just seemed so random, so utterly senseless. There wasn’t a person in the wizarding world who had any cause to want Neville Longbottom dead. The man he’d become was no more offensive or aggressively ambitious than the boy I’d taught so many years ago. From all accounts he was a humble, good-natured, quiet man well respected by his peers, his friends, and family.

I began to wonder if this might not be some sort of hideous accident after all. Perhaps he’d been studying obscure poisons and inadvertently managed to poison himself. “And he just happened to slip it into his own lemonade?” I muttered under my breath, tossing a sheet of notes I’d been working on to the kitchen table. Whimsy glanced up at me curiously, then went back to fishing for toys beneath the counter.

Right, so it was profoundly implausible that he’d accidentally poisoned himself, he had no enemies to speak of, and by all accounts no reason to want to actively do away with himself. He had a lovely young wife, a career he both enjoyed and excelled at, he was well liked and a respected hero of the Second War. His life was everything he could’ve hoped for and more; now, tragically it was also over far, far too soon.

There was only one person that the Aurors hadn’t yet found the nerve to interview, and only one person who might conceivably be able to shed any light on this tragedy. I made plans to visit St. Mungo’s the next day.


	4. Chapter 4

_“Poor queen! so that thy state might be no worse,_  
I would my skill were subject to thy curse.  
Here did she fall a tear; here in this place  
I’ll set a bank of rue, sour herb of grace:  
Rue, even for ruth, here shortly shall be seen,  
In the remembrance of a weeping queen.” 

_King Richard II Act 3, Scene 4_

 

“Hello, Luna, how are you, my dear?”

She gazed up at me vacuously, the same distant smile on her face that she’d worn through most of her childhood. Blinking, she sighed, “Oh Professor Lupin, how kind of you to visit me today.” 

Luna took my hand in both of hers, her touch feather light. “I was about to go on an adventure in the garden, I’ve heard rumors that there are Crumple-Horned Snorkacks about, you see. Father would so love a living specimen for the Quibbler.”

I smiled hesitantly, well aware that Mr. Lovegood had passed away over a year and a half earlier. 

“Perhaps tomorrow, today I’m on rather pressing business.”

“Oh.” Her gaze seemed to pass right through me. “What a shame.”

“You could help me, Luna, if you could answer a few questions for me.”

“Questions? Is this a game?”

“Something like one, yes. I’d like to speak to you about Neville.”

“Neville,” she repeated dreamily. “I’m going to marry him. He’s a lovely dancer. And do you know that I won’t even have to change my monograms? It’s true, my initials will remain ‘LL’, isn’t that delightful? Of course I haven’t anything monogrammed, but I shall.”

“Luna, I need to know, as best you can remember it, what happened to Neville. The last time you were together, can you tell me when that was?”

“Why it was...” she paused and her forehead wrinkled with thought. “Hmm, I think it was some little time ago, I can’t quite...” She stood abruptly and, still holding my hand, drew me to her desk. “My days are all muddled, but I always remember the story on the cover of the Quibbler, it’s how I keep things straight in my mind, you see. Now, I was reading a story to Neville just the other day...Ah, here it is, the one about the Leprechaun King who declared war on Gringott’s and demanded that all the gold be turned over to him. How odd, that was two weeks ago, it doesn’t seem like so much time has passed.”

“That’s fantastic, Luna, now can you remember what happened that afternoon?”

“I...I was preparing something for dinner, I think it was a roast. I had to watch it ever so carefully, the heating spells on our oven are just horrid. And I’m afraid Neville’s never been any good at repairs. He was drinking some lemonade, he loved fresh lemonade, but he always made it much too tart. He went into the living room and he was telling me about the lecture he was about to give for the London Magical Botanical Society...and...and then...” Her hands convulsively clenched around mine. “And then he began to scream, it was so odd, not at all like the normal screams one’s accustomed to in a house. You know, like when you stub your toe or a spider unexpectedly drops down your blouse. Nothing like that...nothing at all.”

She moved closer to me, squeezing my hand so tightly I actually winced. Her voiced dropped slightly, “I’ve seen and heard people under a Cruciatus, and they don’t even make sounds like that. I ran in the room, and he’d fallen to the floor...there was...it was a sort of bloody froth coming from his mouth and nose. He’d stopped screaming then, instead there was a sort of choking noise, horrible and wet. I couldn’t move at first, and he looked at me, just looked at me, and that was when I knew he was dying. And then his eyes began to dissolve...” Her body convulsed and she all but flew away from me and into a corner of the room. She slid to the floor, wrapping her arms about herself and rocking gently.

“Oh Luna,” I croaked, hating myself for putting her through the memory again, particularly when it had revealed nothing that might help solve this hideous crime. “I’m so very sorry.” 

She no longer heard me, I don’t think she even knew that I was in the room with her at that point. I slunk away, horrified and all too anxious to put as much distance between myself and the broken woman I’d managed to harm through my ham-handedness. Sometimes I was almost grateful that my condition precluded me from ever pursuing a career as an Auror, whatever brains I might have once possessed seemed to have dribbled out my ears in the past few years. I’d become a stupid, careless, clumsy old man.

I’d all but talked myself into abandoning my ridiculous efforts at amateur sleuthing when I passed by a newsstand and recognized the aggrieved expression of Minerva McGonnagal on the cover of the latest edition of the Daily Prophet. In her photo she desperately tried to storm her way through a cluster of reporters, all clearly just as intent on making sure she didn’t escape their clutches. I glanced over at the headline and felt as if I’d been hit by stinging hex right in the chest. There’d been another bizarre poisoning, this time at Hogwarts.

***

 

Had anyone asked me just a few years ago what I thought of the possibility of Pansy Parkinson ever teaching at Hogwarts, I probably would’ve burst into laughter right in their face. Certainly the obnoxious little bint in my third year Defense class hadn’t seemed destined for more than ending up Draco Malfoy’s doting, brainless, slightly evil mate. Of course his buggering off to the Death Eaters at the end of year six had put rather a crimp in that plan. Well, that and the blossoming, and utterly unlikely friendship that developed between her and a love-lorn, rejected Ginny Weasley.

And then the friendship went a bit further.

As it turned out Pansy and Ginny weren’t the only ones expanding their horizons, as evidenced by a much reformed, and utterly devoted Draco Malfoy trotting along behind Harry like an adoring puppy. There were, I supposed, worse reasons for turning to the side of light than an overwhelming, though utterly unlikely sexual compatibility. Not precisely your ordinary redemption tale, but the two boys continued to positively dote on one another even years after the final battle of the Second War.

The same had been true of Ginny and our former Professor Parkinson, who’d taken over Charms after Filius’ dreadful loss. Apparently she’d been quite highly thought of both as a teacher and Head of Slytherin House. That was until two days prior when she’d been discovered rather brutally murdered in her office.

It was poison, but not just any poison, one that had caused her to hemorrhage blood from every orifice and pore of her body. It was a particularly ugly upgrade of a standard Exsanguis Potion. Of course there had been a few bizarre suggestions that perhaps she’d decided to take her own life in a wildly improbable way. Ginny Weasley had put that notion to rest immediately, though it had taken at least one threatened lawsuit to quiet certain nasty quills at the Prophet. 

I felt odd walking through the halls of Hogwarts once again, odd and decidedly unwelcome. The school had once felt like a second home to me, now it was like any other institution whose walls I’d once been imprisoned behind. Too many memories of hospital stays, of hideous medicinal potions, of cool sterile, impersonal hands and hushed words intruded on the present and I suddenly wanted to flee the place and never look back.

What had caused the change? Certainly the loss of Albus’ calm, paternal influence had left its impression on the place. Minerva’s stewardship was decidedly non-maternal, to say the least, but I’d never expected quite such a profound difference in a relatively short time. Perhaps it had more to do with the war itself, the death, the loss of innocence, the grinding brutality that had so devastated not only one, but every living generation that had survived it.

I walked out to the main courtyard and immediately spotted the Headmistress, she was every inch the stern, flinty, “Iron Lady” as she’d been called during the War. Of course the fact that she was currently surrounded by a pack of ravenous Daily Prophet reporters and a swarm of hovering, swishing, furiously scribbling quills, may have had something to do with her current dour mood. “I’ve told you all a thousand times that no comment means just that. I can’t offer you any more information than the Ministry. Indeed, I have a great deal less, I’m afraid. Now I’m a very busy woman, so please...” She waved her hands as if to shoo them all away like a pack of unruly first years. Very few responded, so she was forced to push her way through the crowd, an expression of extreme distaste on her face.

That changed immediately when she laid eyes on me, I’m happy to say. “Ah, Remus dear, so good of you to come. Please follow me.”

I fell into step behind her very quickly as we all but raced away from the throng of reporters. There were several aggravated yelps from the assembly, which Minerva ignored with the same cool disdain she’d leveled at more than a few unruly students in her day. It cowed one or two, but I was quite certain the vast majority had grown immune to such responses from their quarry over the years. When it seemed they might pursue us she gestured sharply with her right hand, and I immediately heard the distinctive footfalls of Rubeus Hagrid entering the courtyard. “Hagrid will see that rabble off. The unruly vultures, coming in here and treating us all like we’re all criminals, or near enough. Insufferable!” she huffed indignantly. “If Albus were still alive they’d never have dared. Never. Put a woman in charge and suddenly the jackals think they can just do whatever they bloody well please.”

I tried to fight the grin that kept threatening to overcome even my legendary self-control, because I knew that Minerva would most certainly not appreciate it. However, her heartfelt tirade was so profoundly uncharacteristic and at the same time so delightfully charming that I had to cover a chuckle with a quick cough. She pretended not to notice.

“I was surprised when I received your message, Remus. Surprised, but pleased, I should add.” I was favored with an all too brief smile that was far too brittle for my comfort. Minerva was under a tremendous amount of stress at the moment, it had taken her months to get the school back on its proverbial feet after the end of the War. And just when things were beginning to normalize, to return to a state akin to that of its glory days, Pansy Parkinson had the bad fortune to meet her rather gruesome end on these very grounds.

Nodding, I returned politely, “I’ve been meaning to find an excuse to visit, Minerva.”

“Since when do you need an excuse, dear?” This time her smile was a good deal more convincing. “I just wish it could’ve been under more pleasant circumstances.”

“Actually those circumstances were precisely what brought me here.”

She paused and met my eyes curiously. “Remus, you haven’t taken up any wretchedly bad habits like journalism, have you? I’d sooner you’d have turned to drink than that.”

“No, no nothing like that, I’m still working at the Ministry,” I chuckled. “And before you ask, no I’m not here in any professional capacity for them either. This visit is strictly for my own purposes.”

“And what might those purposes be?”

“Curiosity?” I offered lamely. Then, shrugging I added, “Well that’s not strictly true either, let’s just say that I’m finding it very hard to sit around stamping Apparations licenses day after day while people are dying.”

“I see, and you thought you’d come to Hogwarts, do a bit of poking about and somehow pull all of the clues together to solve the mystery of Pansy’s death, did you?”

“Something like that.” It did sound rather absurd now that she’d voiced it aloud. “I was always rather good with puzzles, if you’ll recall.”

“As I remember it, you were rather better at mischief. No, don’t give me that poor innocent little me look, I know precisely how much nonsense you got up to while you were under my theoretical stewardship. I know James and Sirius played their parts as well, but I don’t for a minute believe you were their naive dupe. Indeed, I believe the more cunning of your lot’s little plots could be laid squarely at your feet, young man.”

I blushed like a teenager, though whether from embarrassment about the truth of her words, or pleasure at being referred to as a “young man”, I really couldn’t say. “I really have no idea what you’re talking about, Minerva.”

“Always the soul of discretion, aren’t you Remus, dear?” She actually reached over and patted my cheek. “I’ve missed you, you know.”

“I’ve missed you too, Minerva, and I promise I won’t be such a stranger in the future. It’s...you see, the last year has been rather...difficult.”

McGongall nodded sympathetically and I remained silent as she drew her own conclusions about my absence. Better that she believe my health had taken another turn for the worse than to realize the truth about my sham of a marriage. Honestly, it had less to do with the affair than with my own subsequent actions. I wasn’t sure whether she’d react with disappointment or pity, but I wanted no part of either. “Come along to my office, we’ll have a nice cup of tea.”

I smiled feeling a dismaying degree of relief, and followed her gamely. We stopped before the gargoyle and she snapped, “Ice Mice.” I gave her a raised eyebrow, to which she replied, “It’s...tradition.” She turned on her heel and strode up the winding stairs with her usual energetic tread, it was all I could do to keep up with her. I actually paused momentarily before entering the office, not quite sure what I was about to find. I should’ve realized, though, that she’d have left it in precisely the same condition as she’d found it. 

It had become a sort of shrine to Albus Dumbledore, the only thing missing was his beloved Fawkes. The phoenix had vanished shortly after Dumbledore’s funeral, it gave voice to a final keening wail and disappeared into the sky. It’s perch remained, however, precisely where it always had been. Despite knowing better, I found myself watching the floor beneath it as if waiting for it to rise up out of the ashes just as it had so many times before. I finally tore my eyes away and gazed up belatedly at my hostess. She gave me a look that said she very clearly knew what I’d been thinking, and that she too had done the very same on more than one occasion.

I took a seat in front of her decidedly tidier desk as she summoned a House Elf with a request for tea and biscuits. While we awaited its arrival she settled in opposite me and chatted about her work over the past year, her students, and of course the Gryffindor Quidditch team. Apparently the latest Seeker was quite the handful. I nodded with polite interest and made all the noises expected of me, but to be perfectly honest Quidditch held little to no appeal to me. I’d feigned sufficient interest in school to keep Sirius and James from realizing, but after graduation I’d all but ignored the sport.

When the tea arrived, we settled in more comfortably and the conversation turned to the actual reason for my visit. “Remus, I honestly don’t know what I can tell you about Pansy that I haven’t told the Ministry, and I can tell you the Aurors seemed to find it of absurdly little use.”

“It’s all right, Minerva, I’d just like to ask you a few questions and we’ll see where they lead, shall we?” I took a sip of the very excellent black tea she’d served me, and began, “Why don’t you tell me a bit about Pansy. I’m afraid I really never got to know her when she was my student.”

“You could hardly be blamed for that, she was a rather unpleasant girl. Though I will say she improved tremendously once free of Malfoy’s influence. And her actions during the War certainly convinced me that she was a serious, brilliant, loyal young witch who was an asset to our side.”

“And I take it she remained a serious, brilliant, loyal young witch when she joined your staff?”

Minerva nodded sharply. “I’d accept nothing less.”

“Of course. I know that she and Ginny were....close, but did she have many other friends or...” I paused at the look on my former professor’s face. “What?”

“She and Ginny were certainly very close before and during the War,” she said cautiously.

“And how has their relationship been recently?” I prompted gently.

Minerva pursed her lips, not at all sure she wanted to be engaging in anything remotely akin to gossip. Her healthy Scottish pragmatism won out in the end, however. “I’m not quite sure how to put this, but I don’t believe the two could actually be considered a couple. At least not for the past two months or more. You see Ginny’s family never approved of Professor Parkinson, and I do believe Molly referred to her daughter’s...preference for a female partner as an ‘unfortunate phase’. As you might expect, Pansy didn’t take kindly to that or to being excluded from most Weasley family gatherings. It put Ginny in a terrible position, she had to make a choice, and sadly I believe she did.”

“Would you say this was common knowledge?”

“Here at Hogwarts, certainly, but then you know what it’s like trying to keep anything quiet in this place. How far the talk might have extended beyond that I really couldn’t say. Certainly it would have been understood by all of the Weasleys, and Molly hasn’t been exactly tight lipped regarding her feelings about the whole affair.” Minerva then did something that I’d never seen her do in all the years I’d known her, she slumped in her chair, exhausted and dispirited. “I suppose that this information might prop up those ridiculous rumors about Professor Parkinson taking her own life. It’s absurd, Remus, Pansy was many things but suicidal? No, I just can’t bring myself to believe that.”

I ran a finger over my mustache thoughtfully. “Well we can’t discount the possibility, still it seems an awfully strange method to choose in order to do away with yourself. She did decently well in Potions as I recall, it would’ve been easy enough to put together a painless, swift poison that would do the trick.”

“Unless, of course, she wanted to send a message with her death. Something dramatic and...gruesome.”

“That’s a possibility as well. But there’s just something that doesn’t ring true to me there...and...and then there’s Neville’s death.”

One steel-colored eyebrow shot up. “Do you have reason to believe they’re related somehow? Who on earth would want to kill both Pansy and Neville? And why?”

“I can’t answer those questions, at least not yet, Minerva, but it does seem rather odd to me that two young people involved in the Second War should both die by some rather exotic poisons in the span of just a few weeks.” She gazed up at Albus’ painting which smiled benevolently back at her, lost in thought. “As to who, perhaps there is a link between the two of them that we’re unaware of. Do you know if Pansy might have been seeing anyone else after she and Ginny broke up?”

The Headmistress tore her eyes reluctantly away from Dumbledore’s portrait and met mine once more. “I...I suppose it’s possible. She was spending a good deal of time in Hogsmeade after hours. Not, mind you, that she wasn’t perfectly entitled to spend her leisure time in whatever fashion she chose. It’s just customary for heads of house to be available to students’ needs at all times, and for the past few weeks...”

“Pansy wasn’t?” I prodded gently.

“No, she wasn’t.” The Headmistress looked intensely uncomfortable, fiddling with the collar of robe with one hand and a nearby quill with the other. “You might want to speak with Rosmerta, goodness knows that woman pays more attention to the comings and goings of her patrons than she ought. I think it takes her mind off her own troubles, she’s never been quite the same since that little fiend Malfoy used an Imperius Curse on her years ago.”

“Now, now, Minerva, remember Draco more than redeemed himself for his earlier misdeeds.”

She snorted in a not entirely ladylike manner before muttering, “Just because he came to his senses before completely selling his soul to You Know Who doesn’t exactly make him an angel in my eyes.”

“Nor mine, but everyone should be allowed at least a chance at redemption. And you must admit he’s made good on his since the end of the war.” I couldn’t help smiling a little mischievously as I added, “Harry certainly hasn’t had cause to complain.”

Minerva rolled her eyes and rose to her feet abruptly. “The less said about that the better. Potter really must have taken leave of his senses.”

“Ah well, some do consider love a very peculiar variety of mental illness you know.”

“Be that as it may, Remus dear, I’m afraid I’m going to have to ask you to excuse me. All of this kerfluffle with the media has put me hideously far behind in my paperwork. It’s a nightmare, an absolute nightmare.” She came around the desk and took my hand in her own firm grip before walking me to the door. I paused to glance around the office one last time, and met Albus’ eyes as his portrait smiled warmly down at me. I know it was only a painting, but just seeing the old man again made me feel more hopeful than I had in weeks.


	5. Chapter 5

I’d stopped in Hogsmeade after my visit to Minerva and had spoken briefly with Rosmerta. The barkeep had changed rather profoundly since the War, gone was her easy smile and matronly curves. In their place was a dour broomstick of a woman, who looked as if she’d aged a decade or more. She was only too happy to gossip about Pansy as well as every other patron of her establishment, sadly the information she had to offer was somewhat less than helpful. Yes Pansy had been by on several occasions, and more frequently over the past few weeks. At first she’d seemed more interested in drowning her sorrows as efficiently as possible, but had, in the past two weeks, apparently begun to recover somewhat. She’d started speaking to others, nursing her drinks rather than downing them as quickly as possible, and paying attention to a certain attractive young woman or two who’d stopped in for a drink.

Hardly the portrait of a suicidal woman in the grips of despair.

I returned home feeling a great deal more confident that my original assessment of her death was looking more and more likely, but no closer to drawing any useful conclusions from the evidence. Perhaps I had been rather foolish to believe that I would have any more luck than the Aurors where Pansy’s murder was concerned. And I was no closer to being able to prove to anyone that Parkinson and Longbottom’s deaths were somehow related. From what I could tell there was no connection beyond the method, and even there I couldn’t be certain it wasn’t just some bizarre coincidence.

Still, it didn’t feel right. There was something there, I knew it on an instinctual level even if I didn’t have any evidence to prove it at the moment. But beyond that I was convinced, absolutely convinced, that without finding that connection these deaths would continue.

I was so lost in thought contemplating this very thing, that I almost missed the owl sitting patiently outside my window. Five minutes later I scrawled a nearly illegible response and sent it off with a mixture of excitement and trepidation. I then sat down to stare at the original note, not entirely believing my eyes. There was Kingsley’s recognizable script stating in simple terms that Severus had agreed to see me. He then went on to describe how I’d reach the house in which he was being held and when best to arrive. As a post-script he added that it might be wise not to mention this to anyone else as it was, strictly speaking, not allowed.

My hands shook a little, I almost felt like a Marauder again.

***

I think what struck me first about the little house at Spinner’s End was how profoundly mundane it looked. I’m not sure what I’d expected of the Snape ancestral abode, but a little two-story, run-down, hovel in an obscure little Muggle town near Manchester struck me as somewhat disappointing. As both the birthplace of a man whose deeds during both wars had become somewhat legendary, and now his prison for the remainder of his natural life, it lacked a certain grandeur.

I could almost imagine my grandmother living in such a place, but not Severus Snape. Still, it was the correct address, and the place was practically crackling with wards, so much so my hair all but stood on end. I couldn’t help thinking they must have been obliviating local Muggles by the dozens on a near daily basis to avoid any notice of the place. What a colossal waste of time and magic.

I walked closer, wondering if one of the Aurors on duty had already spotted me or if I was just expected to go up and knock on the door. Glancing around I noticed only the normal Muggle street traffic one would expect to see in such a place, nothing out of the ordinary in the slightest. 

With a sigh and shrug I moved closer to knock on the door. Before my hand actually made contact a mild, tenor voice from just behind me said, “I wouldn’t do that, were I you, ducks. Get a bit of a nasty jolt unless I lower that particular ward.”

I turned, slowly lowering my hand. “Thank you. I’m afraid I wasn’t quite sure what the protocol for this kind of a situation might be.”

The young man favored me with a brilliant smile. He was startlingly attractive, with short-cropped black hair, green eyes and a slender build. His robes hung off him with a sort of rakish flair that reminded me rather intensely of James Potter’s carefully cultivated air of stylish indifference. If his hair hadn’t been quite so tidy the resemblance would’ve been pronounced.   
Holding out his own hand, he laughed, “To be honest I haven’t a clue what the protocol is either, Mr. Snape isn’t exactly the most social of blokes. Not the kind to draw a crowd of well wishers, if you take my meaning.” I took his hand and shook it as he continued, “My name’s Jamie Johnstone, Auror third class, very happy to meet you.”

“Remus Lupin. I spoke to Kinglsey Shackelbolt about visiting today and he said...”

“Aye, he told me to expect you, which is why you got warned about the ward on the door.” Jamie’s impish grin was positively infectious, I found myself smiling in return. “Give me half a tick to lower it and then you can go right in.”

“Is he...I mean, I haven’t seen or spoken to Severus since before his trial. I’m not exactly sure what to expect.”

Jamie produced a wand and moved it in an intricate pattern over the doorknob before answering, “I’ve worked here for better than a year and even I don’t know what to expect from the man most days. But I must admit, it does keep the job interesting. He seemed to be in a reasonable enough mood this morning when I poked my head in to make sure he was still breathing. One of my little duties, you see. As long as he doesn’t lob something at me I count it as one of his good days.”

I sighed and gave the door a dubious look. “Right. Well, wish me luck.”

The Auror just gave me a friendly pat on the shoulder before opening the door and gesturing me inside. The entryway was rather dim and narrow, but opened quickly into the main room on my right. I saw a doorway to my left that I assumed led to a pantry or kitchen. The only light aside from that at my back seemed to be coming from the window against the near wall. I noticed immediately that the room was reasonably large, lined entirely with bookcases which were completely filled with books. There were a few ragged pieces of furniture, a small sofa, a threadbare sitting chair, and what looked like a tiny kitchen table and chair near the front window. That was where Severus was seated.

My heart gave a startled little leap, and I nearly cried out. I’m not sure why I hadn’t expected him to be seated quietly in his own living room. I suppose on some level I’d expected to be announced, giving him the chance to make some sort of grand entrance. Instead he sat sipping a cup of tea and reading a two day old copy of the Daily Prophet.

He looked much the same as I remembered him, his hair dark and just as greasy as it had been since adolescence, hung limp and lifeless around a grim, pale face. There was, however, a rather impressive streak of gray running the length of it now, from his left temple. The lines around his mouth and eyes seemed somewhat more pronounced, and his jaw perhaps a bit more heavily jowled than I’d recalled.

In short, his body had aged, with the same graceless disinterest with which it had stumbled into puberty.


	6. Chapter 6

“Do you intend to stand there gawking at me all day?” As greetings from Severus were concerned, it was actually almost cordial.

“I...um.”

“Brilliant reparté, Lupin, it’s so comforting to see that some things never change.” he sighed, setting the paper down and giving me his full attention. “You look dreadful. If I had to lay a wager I’d say you’re still absurdly under-employed, or perhaps you enjoy dressing like a homeless person?”

“Charming as ever, Severus.” I returned, strangely put at ease by his typical bad manners. “Is it all right if I have a seat?”

He glanced over at a threadbare chair and simply said, “By all means.” When I’d made myself reasonably comfortable Severus continued, “I must admit I was rather surprised to receive your message.”

“I’m rather surprised you read it, really.”

“I shouldn’t put too much stock in that, were I you. It’s not as if I am precisely overwhelmed with correspondence at present.”

“So you were bored,” I prompted, smiling in spite of myself.

“I was bored.” His voice was utterly deadpan, but I thought I detected just a hint of humor in it. “One can only listen to that Johnstone idiot natter on about the latest Quidditch match for so long. And I’m afraid the herbs in my garden around back are somewhat lacking when it comes to conversation.”

“Garden? Really? I wouldn’t have thought...I mean to say, without magic...”

“One can manage to grow a perfectly respectable garden without the intervention of magic. Muggles have been doing it for rather a long time, you know. And it’s not as if I’m attempting to cultivate Devil’s Snare. Chamomile isn’t quite so exciting, admittedly, but far less prone to attempt to strangle the life out of me. And it makes a lovely tea. Would you care for some?”

I hesitated, reminded quite against my will, of the old fable about the scorpion who convinces a hapless turtle to help it across a river. The turtle, a foolish, trusting creature, forgets the scorpion’s nature and pays with its life. Once upon a time I might have been that foolish. However, I knew there were many dangerous creatures in this world, and I’d learned over the years that the venomous ones were not to be lightly trusted. Snape might have been defanged to all appearances, even genial, or as close to it as he was ever likely to become; but one couldn’t be too careful. His eyes practically glinted as he realized what I was thinking, and he almost seemed pleased.

“Perhaps another time,” I finally replied, feeling a bit cowardly. “I was rather hoping we might discuss the two murders that have taken place recently.”

“Were you?” He feigned indifference, his face and voice just a little too deadpan to be quite believable, as he poured himself a fresh cup from the tiny, round clay teapot. “I can’t imagine what you think I could possibly add to this investigation. Nor, to be perfectly frank, why an employee of the Transportation Office should even be asking questions about these cases. I would have thought that if my modest skills could possibly be of use then I’d receive a visit from an Auror, you know, the group officially sanctioned with solving these crimes.”

“I don’t recall having mentioned where I was working earlier. How did you...?”

Nodding toward my jacket, he said, “Your pocket.” My eyes followed his, until I noted the slip of parchment sticking up visibly from my pocket, the logo of the Apparations Licensing Department obvious even from a distance. “Office memo, unless my eyes deceive me.”

“Oh, yes, I must have worn this to the office and just put the memo in there. For a minute I almost thought you’d managed Legilimency. But I don’t suppose that’s possible what with all the wards, hmm?”

“No, no magic, Lupin. Simply a decent brain and the ability to use it. Rare these days, I know, but still quite possible, I assure you. It’s rather depressing how little the proper use of the mental faculties is stressed, educationally speaking, among the wizarding population. It’s all wand waving, hexes and charms. Logic is a dying art.”

“Oh I don’t know about that, I believe there are some amazingly bright and talented young people who...”

Severus’ dark eyes slid over to meet mine as he drawled, “Name one.”

“I...”

“Exactly.”

“What about Hermione Granger? Brightest witch of her age, you must admit.”

“Must I? Well, perhaps she does possess a certain native intelligence, however I’d counter with a reminder about her rather shocking lack of common sense. Not to mention taste, I mean honestly, a Weasley?” He rolled his eyes and I cleared my throat to cover an inadvertent chuckle. “Have they actually made it official yet?”

“You mean have Ron and Hermione married?” I was a little startled that he actually seemed to care. “Well, no she’s focusing on establishing her career as a magical ethicist at the moment. I expect she’ll be the youngest Minister of Magic, and we’ll be able to say we knew her when.”

“Hmm, well perhaps she has developed a small degree of common sense in the past few years after all. I suspect it has something to do with Potter gallivanting about the world with that little Quidditch team of his.”

“It’s not such a little team, you know, Puddlemere United’s got a real shot at the World Cup this year. Between his Seeking and Draco’s Chasing they’re damn near unstoppable.”

Severus actually smiled at that. “Ahh yes, dear Draco, he and Potter are still...?”

I blushed and lowered my eyes. “Oh yes...quite.”

“How nice for them.”

“Yes, I suppose it is. I have to say I’m rather surprised to find myself sitting in your front room chatting about the latest gossip. This isn’t....well it’s not really how I imagined this conversation.”

“Oh?” he leaned back in his seat and took another sip of his tea. “Just how did you foresee this particular conversation turning out? I’d be absolutely fascinated to hear your take on all of this.”

“Well...” I suddenly had the intense sensation I’d managed to stumble unwittingly into a rather well laid verbal trap. “I, I suppose I thought you might be a bit more...I don’t know, bitter?”

“Now why on earth would I be bitter?” His voice had become smooth and sharp as a razor. “After all, I could be rotting away in Azkaban right now, couldn’t I?”

“Y-yes.” I could almost feel what little hope I’d had just a moment ago slowly begin to fade. 

“And here I am instead, in this lovely sitting room, in my family home sipping this delicious tea. Of course I can’t go further than the back garden, nor so much as handle a wand, and I am at the complete whim of my captors despite having been convicted of no real crime. But aside from that, what more could I ask for?”

I took a deep breath and began as mildly as possible, “Severus, most of the population believes that you returned to the Death Eaters of your own volition. And even those who understood you were there at Albus’ order still hold you very much responsible for the deaths and carnage that took place during that time, not to mention his death. I don’t condone it, mind you, but some would argue that you’re here for your own protection, as much as any crimes you committed.”

His expression slid effortlessly into a pronounced and undoubtedly heartfelt sneer. “You must forgive me if I seem ungrateful for such...thoughtfulness. But I’m forced to wonder when this overwhelming concern for my well being developed, it was certainly in short enough supply when I was daily risking my life to supply the Order with information.” Standing abruptly, he moved to the window and glared outside as if silently cursing a world he could no longer be a part of. “Did you actually think I’d gone soft in the head in so short a time? I ceased believing in fairy stories when I was five, I’m afraid.”

“Severus, I...”

“Do you know,” he asked quietly, completely ignoring me, “how I spent my first months here after that sham of a trial? I destroyed the place. Daily. Set it on fire twice. Threw every stick of furniture on the lawn. Shattered all the windows. It’s amazing how much damage you can do without a wand.” He glanced over at me then, before continuing, “There are no original books left in this house. I used them during the first fire, you see.” Reaching behind him, he pulled a volume from a nearby shelf and threw it to me.

“’Magical Me’?” I couldn’t help grinning.

“I have the entire eight volume Lockheart ouvre if you’d ever care to borrow them. I hear ‘Wandering with Werewolves’ was surprisingly humorous.” Severus turned back to the window and crossed his arms over his chest. “One of Scrimgeour’s little amusements. Of course they’re non-flammable, so is everything else in this wretched place. All the glass is even warded against breakage. Knives will cut everything but flesh.” I shivered a little, wondering how he’d discovered that. “The second month I was here I went through three sets of guards. The first pair were entirely too easily annoyed. It took barely any effort at all to goad them into violence. Then one of the two developed a guilty conscience and they were removed. The second pair simply ignored me, and when I almost managed to starve myself to death they were quickly found a new assignment. The third pair became a bit too solicitous, and when the Minister got wind of the fact that they’d supplied me with the latest issue of Contemporary Brewer, off they went.” He smiled grimly, his eyes never leaving the window. “And of course you’re acquainted with my current captors. Shacklebolt isn’t much of a conversationalist, but I believe I’ve mentioned that Johnstone more than makes up for his deficiencies. Neither can quite match our esteemed Minister of Magic, however, when it comes to the fine art of communication.”

“Really?” I was a bit surprised at the actual hint of admiration in his voice.

“Oh indeed, I can safely say that I have never had the slightest difficulty understanding precisely what the Minister wished to communicate to me.” I noticed his attention return to the window and his body suddenly stiffen. “Tell me, Lupin, are you here today in an official capacity?”

“Official? Oh, no, not as such.”

“Ah, so if, let us say, the Minister were to walk through my door he would be rather surprised to see you?”

I cleared my throat and replied, “Surprised, yes. Displeased, almost certainly. And I’m afraid I’d get Kingsley and Mr. Johnstone into rather a spot of trouble.”

“Well, in that case, I suppose I’d better tuck you away for a bit. Come along.” He gestured for me to follow him and I jumped up to do just that almost in spite of myself.

“What are you...?”

“Scrimgeour is about to pay me a little visit, he does so treasure our chats. I don’t believe it would be in anyone’s best interests for him to find you here, and I’ve enough regard for Johnstone’s self preservation streak to know he won’t mention it. Hurry up, Lupin, don’t dawdle.”

He crossed to what looked like simply another bookcase on the opposite side of the room, removed a thick hardcover book and triggered a catch behind it. The bookcase opened with an audible pop revealing a door behind it. Opening it quickly he gestured to a small hole drilled through at waist level. “You’ll be able to see through this, the books are arranged rather carefully so as not to obstruct your view. Remain silent, absolutely silent, do you understand?”

I nodded slowly, wondering how a simple visit to discuss obscure poisons with Severus had suddenly become some bizarre chapter in a real life espionage tale. I scurried behind the door, noting the staircase it had revealed, then turned to look into his dark eyes once more. I wanted him to know that I was trusting him, putting myself in his hands. He had the power to make my life very unpleasant if he chose to. “Are you sure he won’t check back here?”

“He never has,” Severus replied softly, shutting the bookcase. When he spoke again his voice was muffled, but still quite audible. “Remember, be silent, no matter what happens.”

I could barely make out Johnstone’s high-pitched voice speaking in a clearly exaggerated manner, an effort to warn Snape that he was about to have a visitor, I supposed. Then Scrimgeour’s gruff, booming growl in response. ‘Keep your mouth shut, Jamie,’ I thought desperately. I managed to perch on the edge of one of the stairs and peer through the hole in the door separating me from the sitting room just as the front door opened. The Minister and several Aurors strode into the house, and I actually drew away from my spy hole, convinced that one of them would see me. When the door wasn’t immediately thrown open curiosity quickly drew me back. Severus had returned to his seat by the window, giving me a perfect view of what was to happen.

“You know why I’m here Snape.” The giant of a man glared around the room as if expecting to uncover some foul plot taking place just under his nose. “I’m growing impatient.”

“You’ll have to forgive me if I’m somewhat unsympathetic to your situation, Minister.” Severus leaned back and casually took a sip of tea. 

The giant of a man limped further into the room, his mane of gray hair swept back in a far more fashionable manner than he’d troubled himself with during the Second War. I supposed that people were more apt to pay attention to what their Minister of Magic looked like these days, and for a man in serious danger of a no confidence vote he was clearly aware of it. I allowed myself to feel a little sorry for him, this battle scarred “War Minister” was finding that a public no longer terrified of Death Eaters behind every bush were also less likely to tolerate a man whose governing style sometimes veered uncomfortably close to Voldemort. 

“Oh you are, are you? Well you pompous git, allow me to assure you that I am not a man whose limits you want to test.” The Minister gazed around the small sitting room thoughtfully, then chose a book from a nearby shelf, seemingly at random. “You’ve got yourself a right cozy little set up here, haven’t you? All the comforts of home, hmm?”

Severus simply gazed back at the man expressionlessly and continued to drink his tea.

“You’ll warrant this is a great deal better than being locked away in Azkaban, yes? Under slightly different circumstances you might have been sharing a cell with Malfoy Sr.”

“What circumstances would those be, Minister? Perhaps if I were to be, let us say, guilty of an actual crime?”

Scrimgeour scowled and slapped the book against one of his legs explosively. “Enough, Snape, we both know you’re guilty as sin. You murdered Albus Dumbledore.”

“Killed,” Snape snapped, his composure slipping perilously, “not murdered.”

“You were a Death Eater. How many deaths were you directly responsible for? Indirectly? Do you even know? Can you even recall?”

“Oh, Minister, shall we compare tallies, you and I?” Severus’ gaze had gone decidedly flinty and I sensed a growing tension in the atmosphere. It felt like...violence. “And ultimately, those deaths that you can call your own, what purpose did they serve? Remind me, was it you who struck the final blow against Voldemort? You who destroyed the final horcrux? You who pulled Potter’s battered body from beneath the Dark Lord’s?” The Potions Master carefully lowered his teacup and folded his hands neatly in his lap. “I don’t believe it was, Minister. As I recall it was you who ordered several pointless raids against Death Eater encampments under the misguided belief that your well-trained Aurors were more than a match for the Dark Lord’s pure-blooded psychopaths. And it was you who determined that the Dementors could be brought back under Ministry control despite mind-numbingly overwhelming evidence to the contrary. As I remember it, you also refused to assist Potter and his friends when they came to you with a final desperate plan to stop Voldemort, for no other reason than that Potter hadn’t deigned to become your willing lapdog and propagandist. I wonder, in the end, which one of us truly deserves to be locked away as a threat to the wizarding world. But I suppose that power does have its privileges.”

It was enough, in fact far, far too much and everyone in the room recognized that immediately. If there was one thing Severus had always excelled at it was the less than gentle art of verbal sparring. And in this instance I knew he would be in for more than just a hex or two and a bit of humiliation...a good deal more.

“Put him on his knees.”

The Aurors quickly moved to do just that, though whether it was from some personal hatred for Snape or a simple desire to impress Scrimgeour with their efficiency and obedience, I couldn’t tell. In any case, they’d dragged Severus to his knees with relatively little struggle. The former Potions Master simply glared up at the Minister, his lip curled with disdain.

“You’re an insect, a bloody fucking bug, do you hear me? You shouldn’t even be alive. If it weren’t for the bloody liberal-minded nonsense that passes for governance these days you wouldn’t be. Believe me if I had my way you’d be put down, Death Eater, wiped out of existence as if you’d never stained it.”

“Oh I’m quite aware of that.” Snape’s voice was soft, almost gentle, I tensed in spite of myself. “I wonder, though, do you really think you’re the first man to force me to my knees and hurl threats and insults at me? Because I hate to be the one to break this to you, but I’m afraid in this respect you’re a rather pale shadow in comparison to my former Lord.”

Despite being well aware that the blow was coming, I still flinched when it landed with a sharp crack.

Severus’ voice was not quite so steady, but as softly malicious as before, “That’s better, Minister...now you’re getting the hang of it.”

The second blow and third followed so quickly that I barely had time to process them. “You dare? You dare compare me to that fucking scum? You dare judge me? You?” A series of grunts and muffled groans followed as the Aurors, taking their cue from the Minister, began to add their own punches and kicks. One got creative and pinned his hand down long enough to stomp on it. The snapping of bones was appallingly loud, but no scream followed. Severus had clearly decided he wouldn’t give them the satisfaction, and I had to admit I found myself rather impressed. What the hell had he survived among the Death Eaters that gave him the strength to treat a brutal beating with contempt?

I quickly discovered that I didn’t really want to know.

I’d never, until that point, actually witnessed a man being severely beaten. Wizards don’t usually engage in such...barbarity; we have wands and spells with which to punish, maim, and brutalize one another. After all, even the most grotesque curse is a tidy enough thing, a few words, a wand moved just so. No fuss, no muss. One needn’t, under most circumstances, even break a sweat, in the casting of it.

But this was decidedly not tidy, it was bloody and grim, noisy and vicious. I quickly drew away from the hole in the door trying to escape the horror of it, the ugliness. Even without horrible vision of it I could still hear every blow as it was made and landed. The sound alone seemed, in its own way, even worse, for my imagination was only too happy to fill in the blank. Thrusting my hands over my ears in a vain attempt to block it all out, did nothing to smother it at all. I wanted nothing more than for it to be over, and if I had been a Muggle I’d have undoubtedly prayed most earnestly for an end to it.

Sadly, I was a wizard, and there was no one to listen to my prayers.

It did end, though, sooner than I’d expected. I wondered if perhaps the thugs Scrimgeour had brought with him had simply worn themselves out. They weren’t used to such exertion, after all, and there could be little pleasure for them in continuing to pummel a man who refused to give them the satisfaction of a single scream. There wasn’t any sport in it. Perhaps Snape had passed out and spoiled them of what little fun they might have had. I hoped so, for his sake.

The silence was disturbing in its own remarkable way, but I had to know what was happening, and I dared another look. Snape looked like nothing more than a black stain on the tattered carpet. Scrimgeour stared down at him like judgment itself, I almost expected him to order Snape’s broken body carted off to Azkaban. For a moment I rather think the Minister was considering it himself, but something stopped him. Instead he knelt slowly and painfully and said something so softly that I couldn’t make it out from my hiding place. I wasn’t sure if it was directed at his men or at Severus. With that he rose again with the help of his nearest lackey and stomped out of the little house in Spinner’s End just as quickly as he’d entered it.  
I stayed still, uncertain quite what to do, until I saw Severus begin to stir. He pulled himself up slowly with agonizing determination and looked up at my hiding place. “It’s all right, Lupin, you can come out now.” His voice sounded hollow and shattered.

I felt around in the dark and quickly located the latch to release the bookcase. Running over to him I muttered, “You’re going to get yourself killed at this rate, you fool.”

Severus spat blood and straightened with a groan, pulling his injured hand close to his chest. “Perhaps. But I suspect I’ll goad him into a Crucio first, and when I do...I win.”

“You’re completely fucking mental, do you know that, Severus?”

His only response was a ghastly smile. 

“What does he want anyway?” I pulled out my wand, looked at it critically, then asked, “Will healing spells work with all the wards up?”

Snape nodded, then leaned back against the wall limply. “If you’d rather not, just call on Johnstone if he hasn’t buggered off for a stiff drink. He’s quite experienced in healing spells, and surprisingly adept.”

“No, no, I can do it.” I worked slowly and carefully, trying not to cause him any further unnecessary pain. “Are you going to answer my question?”

“I thought I just did.”

I paused and gazed at him sternly.

With a sigh he relented, “The Minister wants what he’s always wanted, Albus’ fortune.”

“Albus’ fortune?” I couldn’t quite believe my ears. “Why in the name of all that’s holy would he think you possessed that?”

“Probably because I do.”

I actually dropped my wand at that.

He smiled slightly and handed it back to me. “Albus gave me a key to his Gringott’s vault shortly before his…demise. I suspect he felt that it could somehow assuage his guilt for having set me up as Order of the Phoenix Enemy Number One by becoming his ‘murderer’. To this day I honestly cannot believe that not a single one of you thought to question Potter more carefully on just what he saw on the top of that tower. No, all you high minded, air headed gits preferred to take a traumatized boy’s word at face value, despite the fact that he has never once been correct about any of my motivations. Not even once. Much easier than actually considering that maybe, just maybe I wasn’t an evil bastard intent on killing you all.” He rubbed his uninjured hand over his eyes wearily and muttered, “If I’d wanted to I could’ve turned Hogwarts into a charnel house that night, or allowed Fenrir to easily enough. He was all but chomping at the bit, bloody animal.”

Some clearly masochistic part of my psyche momentarily took control of my mouth and I found myself asking, “I’ve always been a bit curious about how intimidated Fenrir was of you. I heard stories after that night, mostly among the pack and acquaintances I’d made while I was infiltrating them, about how the most vicious werewolf in Britain all but licked your boots.”

“Like most dogs he simply needed to be shown who was the master and who the cur.” 

I met his eyes then, unable to look away. “Is that...Is that how you see me as well? A cur, I mean.”

He hesitated for what seemed an eternity. “Fenrir was an animal. You are not.”

“Yes, but...”

“You’re not like him. You never were. It seems rather pathetic that a man of your intelligence should need someone like me to point out something so blindingly obvious.” He pursed his lips and resolutely stared at a nearby bookcase. “Don’t you have friends and a wife from whom you can fish for compliments? If you’re going to rely on me to prop up your fragile ego, I’m very much sorry to say that you’ve already exhausted my supply of admiration.”

My cheeks felt oddly warm, and I cleared my throat uncomfortably. I had absolutely no idea what to say to that, I almost wished he’d insulted me instead, at least that I knew how to respond to. Compliments were simply not something to which I’d ever become accustomed, least of all from Severus Snape. 

“If you’re quite finished with your fiddling about, Lupin, I think I shall have to take my leave of you. I find myself rather indisposed, I’ll have to ask you to visit another day.”

“But,” my brain was still a little fuzzy, but not so muddled that I’d completely lost track of what had brought me to this ugly little house in Spinner’s End, “Severus, I must ask you about....”

“The killings, yes, yes, I remember, Lupin, but now really isn’t the time.”

“Anything you could offer would really be of the greatest...”

He sighed with obvious annoyance and angrily brushed a stray lock of hair out of his face. “I can offer nothing, Lupin. I’m an ex-Potions Master who had the dubious honor of spending his best years attempting to bludgeon some sense into the thick skulls of the wizarding world’s progeny.”

I know I was wheedling, but I had to try, “Severus, we need you, your skills would be invaluable to the investigation.”

“My skills? Oh do go on, Lupin, I should love to hear just how much you think of my abilities as a Potions Master. Most of the wizarding world looks down its collective nose at the art of potions. How was it that the late unlamented Sirius Black referred to it? Ah yes, as a ‘chemistry set’. Do you know what I think? I think all of you who could barely knock together a simple healing potion are terrified of those of us who’ve mastered the discipline. There is something rather unsettling about a magical effect you can’t banish away with a ‘Finite Incantatum’, isn’t there?”

Wincing, I changed tactics once more. “You may have a point, Severus.” I conceded patiently.

“Bloody well right I have a point. And I can assure you right now that placating me won’t change my mind. I’m tired and in pain and I believe I would like very much to be alone.” When I didn’t move, he shouted, “The show is fucking over, Lupin.”

I climbed to my feet with only slightly less difficulty than Severus and stared at the spots of blood on the carpet. They felt like an accusation, as if the stains themselves held me accountable for their existence. I had healed him, certainly, and I could clean the blood away as if it had never existed. It was only a few simple charms, barely an effort at all. 

But they should never have been there in the first place, those stains, I realized all at once. I had stood by and let a man be beaten, too afraid to do a thing about it. A familiar sense of shame settled over me, and I was suddenly thrown back to my teen years. I was stunned how little had changed in over twenty years time, was I still the frightened, stupid boy I’d been then?  
Shoulders slumped, I tucked my wand away and turned to go. “I’m sorry, Severus.”

“Well,” his voice was soft but still raw, “that’s something, I suppose.” He glanced back at me, then reached up to pull down a book from one of the upper shelves on the bookcase in front of the hidden doorway. Slowly he made his way over to me, then held the text out. 

I took it gingerly, and asked, “’The Complete Adventures of Sherlock Holmes’?”

He smiled and returned, “I wasn’t entirely honest when I said that none of the original books survived the fire. It was a childhood favorite of mine. Perhaps you’ll find it...inspirational.”


	7. Chapter 7

I found myself standing on the front step staring down the sad, empty street. Jamie was nowhere to be seen, undoubtedly as Severus theorized, he’d scarpered off for a pint to settle his nerves. I didn’t blame him, indeed, I could’ve gone for one myself. The only problem was that I doubt I’d stop at one, in fact I wasn’t sure I’d stop at ten, and drinking myself unconscious in a small industrial Muggle town didn’t seem terribly wise. 

Perhaps not quite as unwise as turning to my childhood enemy for assistance on the very day that the Minister of Magic came calling. Not only had I failed to accomplish anything beyond nearly giving myself heart failure, but I’d very nearly put myself and quite possibly my wife’s future in jeopardy all because I’d convinced myself that I could succeed where all the Aurors and Necromancers at the Ministry had failed. I still thought I was the smartest lad in Hogwarts, the Headmaster’s pet student. I used to accuse Sirius of never bothering to grow up, and here I was acting like a 15 year old. Somewhere old Padfoot was undoubtedly having a good chuckle at my expense.

I moved outside the wards and suddenly felt as if a weight had been lifted from my shoulders. I hadn’t realized how...oppressive they were until I was free of them again. How horrible to face a life under those wards, with no relief, no escape. I stood staring at the edifice for some time, I was overcome by the same odd sensation that I’d felt upon arriving at Hogwarts. Claustrophobic, wasn’t precisely the right word for it, but there was a definite feeling of desperation and two equally strong desires. The first was to flee as quickly as possible and never turn back...and the second was the disturbingly powerful desire to dismantle those wards one by one, hand Severus my wand, and send him on his way.

Was it just guilt? Perhaps that was a strong element of it, but I could identify at least as strong an impulse to strike back against what I so clearly perceived as an obvious injustice. And of course there was the old familiar desire to at last balance the scales between Severus and myself. It had become rather a habit to feel as though I owed him a debt for having avoided being mauled or eaten by Moony.

I tried not to dwell on the thought for long, as it inevitably left me feeling tense and nauseated. On the other hand, it had rid me of any lingering desire to engage in a bit of binge drinking. With a sigh I plunged my hands into my pockets and wandered away from Spinner’s End. I Apparated home as soon as I was safely out of the view of prying Muggle eyes.

***

I returned to work bright and early the next morning, half expecting to find the Minister had left a message summoning me to his office for a dressing down and immediate dismissal. On a rational level I knew full well that if he’d as much as suspected that anyone aside from Severus might be in the house when he visited, he’d have acted then and there. Subtlety and patience were not Scrimgeour’s forte by a long road. 

The man couldn’t have an inkling of my involvement, I trusted Kingsley implicitly and could think of no benefit to Jamie. Of course...there remained Severus. I convinced myself, however, that while Snape might hold a lingering grudge against me for a variety of slights both real and imagined, his hatred for Scrimgeour far surpassed his loathing for me. He would remain silent, if for no other reason than the hope that someday he might be able to use the information against the man. 

Of course nothing at all happened, and I passed yet another dull, pointless day stamping one Apparation license after another. I completed my work, ate my lunch, made polite conversation when necessary, and counted the hours until I could leave. I will say that there was an almost palpable undercurrent of tension in the building, a combination of frustration, anger and helplessness. The murders were beginning to take a very real toll on everyone’s psyches.

Odd that the deaths of two relatively insignificant individuals could so unnerve the wizarding world. Compared to the number of wizards and witches killed in simple splinching incidents in any given month they were barely worth noting. Everyone in the office received those statistics as a grim reminder to each of us that while our work might seem menial and pointless, proper training and licenses actually saved lives.

I flooed home at the end of the day and fed a thoroughly famished Whimsy, who thanked me profusely with purrs and happy mews. He wound through my legs repeatedly until I finally shooed him away before I either tripped or stepped on him. I’d just settled into my favorite chair with a sandwich and pumpkin juice when Dora appeared looking more flustered than normal. She launched into what sounded suspiciously like the continuation of a diatribe that her partner, Jeremiah Pond, had undoubtedly been subjected to earlier.

“Snape had best be thankful he’s safely locked away, people are starting to turn ugly over these killings and anyone with even a passing knowledge of brewing is under suspicion. Did you know the Potion Masters Guild has even decided to move their yearly conference to Morroco this year? They don’t want to come within a dragon’s length of London.”

“That seems a bit absurd, I mean two people have died, it’s hardly a murder spree, for Circe’s sake!” I frowned and set my sandwich aside, it seemed ridiculous to me that the very people in the best position to help resolve this unfortunate situation were doing everything in their power to avoid it.

“People are getting nervous, Remus, too many remember the war and all those deaths. They’ve even started talking about Death Eaters and...You Know Who again.” Dora couldn’t entirely suppress a tiny shudder at that. “You’d think they’d all seen the Dark Mark lighting up the sky.”

“I don’t blame them for wanting someone to resolve this unpleasantness, but to return to a of siege mentality is just too much. I’ve no doubt Scrimgeour is enjoying it to some degree, the more unsafe the population feels, the more likely he is to hold onto his position.”

She shook her head and glowered. “You might think so, but I don’t. People don’t think he can protect them this time. It’s not exactly like the war, at least then we knew who the enemy was, and what they wanted. But now, what does this person want? What could they possibly want, Remus?”

“I wish I knew, Dora, I really wish I knew, I just don’t think we’ll be able to understand any of this until the murderer is caught. If they’re caught...”

“What do you mean?” Her voice grew a bit prickly, I supposed her professional ego might have been a little bruised by the implication that the murderer might escape. “We’ll catch him, it’s only a matter of time.”

“Of course, I’m sure you’re right.” I scrubbed my face and smiled weakly. “You know me, I’m always a little prone to doom and gloom when it’s that time of the month.”

“Oh is that...tonight? How stupid of me...I, I don’t know how I could’ve forgotten.”

“You’ve been busy, everyone’s under a tremendous amount of stress right now.” We both foundered for a moment, uncertain where to take the conversation next. Usually she’d offer to stay, I’d demur, concerned about her safety, eventually she’d opt to spend the night with a friend and I’d refrain from asking who. We’d carefully crafted the script over months of practice, and yet tonight we were both faltering in the delivery. I cleared my throat, attempting to return to more familiar territory, “It’s getting late, perhaps you should...”

“I’m staying.” The declaration was as firm as it was unexpected.

“That’s not...”

“Remus, I’m staying.” She paused as if uncertain how I would react to her next words, “I’m... I’m your wife! I should be here.”  
I fumbled for a response, clumsy and awkward as a teenager on his first date. There were proper words to smooth out this situation, I could almost feel them on the tip of my tongue, but they eluded me. I knew if I spoke another word I’d muck everything up so I contented myself with a rather vague shrug, she could take from it what she would. I didn’t bother pretending, even to myself, that remaining silent wasn’t a cowardly decision. There really wasn’t any point.

***

I came back to myself slowly. I did not lose awareness or sensation as I returned from lupine to human form, but conscious thought, personality, all those things that made me myself, were sluggish to return. Moony knew only pain, the yawning ache of muscles stretched too thin and bones bent and mangled from their accustomed state. We howled with the agony of a single life split agonizingly between two very different beings. 

Panting, I tasted copper and cheap carpeting. My world was a fuzzy, muddled blur, but awash with scents so powerful, so overwhelming that each one jolted me like a stinging hex. Moony understood them all in his own simple, uncomplicated manner but they left me bewildered and frightened. Breathing as deeply as I dared, I forced myself to identify each one, to give it a name, to recognize it. A musky scent became friend, then cat, then Whimsy who lay curled on the bed, watching me through half slit eyes. 

There was a warm, fresh, inviting scent whose name escaped me. I knew it was an herb, I knew that it was an element of the cleaning soap used to wash the bed linens. Lavender...that was the name, lavender. I began to feel calmer, I had names again, names and words were the basis of the man, Remus Lupin, and were no part of the wolf. The quiet room was awash in sounds that Moony’s sharp ears had no trouble discerning, the hiss of distant Muggle traffic moving to and fro, the gentle rumble of Whimsy’s purr, footsteps in the hall... 

I tensed, unnerved by the oddity of it, and immediately regretted having done so. My muscles screamed at once and I very nearly joined them in a chorus of agony but my throat had not yet completed its transformation and all that emerged was a guttural groan. Relaxing back onto the carpet, I listened and sniffed the air intently. It was a human, a woman, who was attempting to tread lightly but failing. She stumbled into something metallic, sending it crashing into the wall with an explosive bang, and in that moment my mind filled in the blank with a single name, Dora.

She opened the door, and the overpowering scent of citrus vanilla washed over me. It was a familiar, comforting scent at first, and I welcomed her presence, unexpected as it was. She knelt beside me and I felt her fingers brush through my damp hair a bit hesitantly. My skin ached and burned, but I welcomed her touch, and leaned into it. She seemed a bit uneasy, not certain whether to continue as she was or to offer to do more. For my part, I could’ve happily remained just as I was, lying there on the floor with her fingers brushing gently along my scalp. But Dora wasn’t the type to let well enough alone, she never had been.

“Come on, Remus, let’s get you up,” she murmured softly, sliding her fingers beneath my shoulders and trying to impel me to move. At first I just ignored her, remaining stubbornly limp on the carpet. “Remus, you’ll feel much better if we can just...”

When she pulled me over onto my back and tried to force me up with a bit more fervor I hadn’t the words to ask her to stop, to ask her to just leave me be and sit there quietly beside me with gentle hands and patience. There were no words, of course, to demand of her a trait that she was inherently incapable of exhibiting, even at the best of times. That part of me that recognized itself as Remus wanted to simply obey her. It was easier, tidier, certainly it was painful but that would pass soon enough. However, Moony was having none of it, he knew what he wanted and where he wished to be. Without the slightest hesitation he growled low and deep, more annoyance than actual threat, but it was instantly effective. Dora’s hands flew away from me and she fell back rather gracelessly on her bottom.

“I’m...I didn’t...Remus? I’m sorry.” Her voice shook with emotion, I shut my eyes, I simply didn’t have the strength to face her pain at the moment. “I used to know what you needed, what you wanted from me, but I don’t know any more. I don’t think you even want me around any more, but you won’t tell me to go. Why don’t you just tell me to go, Remus? Because it’s either got to be that or you have to forgive me. You just have to forgive me. Can you do that?”

I had just enough strength to turn my head away from her, it was all I had to offer at the moment. 

***

Tuesday morning I was up to my ears in license applications and Lucinda was taking her long awaited vacation to Budapest, so I’d prepared myself for a long and grueling day at my desk. Not exactly the sort of thing I was looking forward to just 48 hours after a transformation, but the office was rather blissfully quiet, which was an awfully nice change. Just before lunch a page from the Minister’s office scurried up to me and breathlessly told me that Scrimgeour expected me immediately. I honestly thought my heart might just give out right then and there. The page offered no further information, simply pressed me to hurry along before the Minister became annoyed. I took a deep breath and did as I was told, repeating silently over and over that he couldn’t possibly have discovered my visit to Snape. And even if he had, surely he wouldn’t have simply sent a page, much more likely that I’d receive notice that my employment had been terminated and I’d be escorted quietly out of the Ministry by an Auror or two.

By the time I’d been directed into the Minister’s private office I’d all but convinced myself that this visit was entirely unrelated to Severus.

I sat down, unconsciously clutching the sleeve of my robe, and tried not to appear half as nervous as I felt.

Scrimgeour spared me a brief, unconvincing smile, then launched into his pitch, “Sorry to bother you Lupin, wouldn’t normally but I have a bit of a favor to ask of you.”

Nodding hesitantly, I made myself stop fidgeting and sit still. Remus Lupin, placid river of calm.

“You know all about the...unpleasantness lately. First Longbottom then that Parkinson woman. As you’re married to an Auror she’s no doubt kept you informed regarding the progress of the case.” He didn’t wait for me to confirm that, rather hurried on. “The problem is there’s been no bloody progress and we’re at the end of our tethers here. The Prophet’s started a bloody crusade against the Ministry. Not that there’s been any love lost between us and them since the end of the War, mind you. But my administration seems to be a favorite target of that Skeeter woman and her ilk.” He leaned back in his plush, dragonhide chair and ran one enormous paw of a hand over his eyes. “Mind you it’s a bad business and it’s up to us to get to the bottom of it, there’s no denying that. And now what with all this blather about a single killer doing away with both of the victims...well the public’s terrified and they look to us to act. But how do you bring someone to justice who kills from afar with apparently no rhyme or reason? Who leaves no clues behind?”

“I can see your predicament, Minister, but I’m not sure what I can do to assist you.”

He stood slowly, then leaned over his desk to look me square in the eyes. “I’m of the opinion that we should consult with that bastard Snape on this. Potions are his area of expertise, and whatever else I might think of him, he didn’t rise to the rank of Master without cause.”

I blinked up at him. Surely he couldn’t think Severus would be willing to do anything for him, especially after his hideous treatment of the man. If beating him to a pulp hadn’t convinced him to see things the Minister’s way, what was he willing to try next? And what on earth did it have to do with me?

“I can see you’re confused, so let me get to the meat of this. I had a little...talk with Snape, and while I couldn’t bring him around entirely to my way of thinking, he did concede to one thing. He said he’d agree to aid us in any way he could with one condition. He wants you to be his liaison with the Ministry.”

“Me?” I honestly couldn’t have been more surprised if he’d just told me I’d been selected to play for England in the Quidditch World Cup. “But why me?”

“No idea,” Scrimgeour muttered into his beard. “But on that he’s adamant. Says we’ll get nothing out of him unless it’s through you. I know this is a somewhat absurd thing to ask, and believe me if I thought there was another way I’d never put you in this position, but...”

“But we need Snape’s help,” I finished, my head practically buzzing with questions. “In...in that case I’ll do whatever I can to assist you, Minister.”

This earned me a large grin, which was all teeth and little else. “Splendid, splendid. You’ll be excused from work whenever your other duties interfere, and this is to be your top priority, absolute tip-top. If there’s anything you need just requisition it in my name, and of course I’ll expect you to report in on a weekly basis. Any progress, any progress at all and I want to be informed about it. Are we quite clear on that?”

I nodded slowly. Oh yes we were absolutely clear. Anything that might make his administration look like they were doing more than sitting around on their collective bums while a mass murderer was on the loose. And of course next year there were the elections to think of.

He came around his desk to shake one of my hands roughly before adding, “Splendid. I want you to know I won’t forget this, Lupin.”

“Neither will I, Minister,” I replied softly.


	8. Chapter 8

Jamie Johnstone grinned impishly at me as I approached Snape’s home, his gray-green eyes practically alive with mirth. “Ooh you won’t be wanting to see his highness t’day, I’m afraid. He’s in one of his little moods.”

“Um, moods?”

The young Auror hopped off the stoop he’d been perched on and fell into step beside me. “Yes indeed, he’s absolutely impossible some days. Take your head clear off.” He mimed taking a giant bite out of someone and burst into laughter. “Not that he’s a barrel of laughs at the best of times, mind you. Dead sexy, of course.”

I goggled at him, my jaw absolutely hanging.

“Oh come on, don’t try to tell me the thought’s never occurred to you. I mean all the angst, the broody romanticism, and that voice...Good Christ, have you ever heard him go on about potions? When he’s worked up a good head of steam, well he makes it sound better than sex.” Jamie sighed and hugged himself. “Well maybe not sex, but definitely chocolate. Oh yeah, definitely chocolate. A voice like that shouldn’t be legal.”

There just wasn’t any response I could come up with for that, and the mingling of Snape and chocolate in my mind was profoundly disturbing for reasons I couldn’t quite put into words. So I decided that perhaps a change of topic was in order. “I see. Well, may I ask what put him into a foul mood today? Couldn’t have been me, I only just decided to pop round.”

“Naw, it’s not you, ducks. To be honest I think he rather fancies you. Now don’t get that look on your face, he was genuinely chipper after you showed up last time. Well, as chipper as he ever gets, of course.”

“The Minister’s recent visit then?” I paused and met his eyes. “You know it’s bloody awful the way he treats Snape...completely illegal too. You are aware, I can tell just by looking at you now.”

Jamie tore his gaze away, focusing instead on a distant smokestack while he chewed his bottom lip. “Me and Kingsley, we do what we can, heal him up a bit, get him what he needs, try to make life a little more pleasant. He doesn’t make it any easier on himself, you know.” When I didn’t respond, he continued a little exasperated, “Well what do you expect? He’s the bloody Minister of Magic and I’m about the lowest rung on the Auror ladder. There’s no farther for me to fall unless I want to end up like me dad, hawking second hand cauldrons and barely scrapin’ by. Bollocks to that.”

I bit my tongue, I was certainly in no position to lecture a man on putting his financial needs before his own moral code. “Well,” I said softly, unable to meet the young man’s eyes, “I suppose that sort of thing won’t be happening in the near future, now that the Minister is relying on Severus for advice on these recent murders. Wouldn’t you reckon?”

The Auror smiled again, “Mmm, Kingsley mentioned that when I relieved him this morning. I suppose Snape has you to thank for his reprieve.”

“I just whetted Severus’ appetite, his curiosity and ego took care of the rest.”

“You whetted something all right, he’s been on an absolute tear since you left. Rearranging, cleaning and fussing about, had me helping him lug bottles, burners and all manner of contraptions in from the shed earlier. The kitchen looks like a bloody potions lab.” Jamie chuckled and jerked a thumb back at the house. “Then after all that he chucks me out and threatens my manhood if I should even think about setting foot back in there today. I swear, sometimes he’s worse than a woman. He could certainly give my mum a run for her money.”

I couldn’t help laughing aloud as the pristine memory of Severus clad in Neville’s grandmother’s finest dress and hat appeared fully formed in my mind. I had the feeling I’d need that picture to keep me sane over the next hour or two, particularly if Snape was in one of those moods. I’d had far, far too much experience on the receiving end of one of his hissy fits. This time, however, as he was wandless he would be limited to sarcasm and insults. It wasn’t much, but I’d take whatever advantage I could get. “I suppose I should...well, mood or no I’d best go inside and see what Severus needs. I’ve been assigned as his liaison, though I suspect ‘lackey’ might be a better word.”

“Oh is that what they’re calling it these days?” Jamie preceded me up the stairs to lower the wards with a flourish. “Oh Professor Snape, you have a visitor,” he called out cheekily while holding the door for me.

A snarl from the rear of the house was the only response, “I’ve told you on numerous occasions, Johnstone, not to call me ‘professor’.” 

“Yes, well I’ve asked you on numerous occasions to call me Jamie and we don’t seem to be getting anywhere on that either.”

“I also recall threatening dire consequences if you interrupted me again today, Johnstone!”

“Should I send Mr. Lupin on his way then? He’ll be ever so disappointed.”

We both waited for several long seconds before Severus growled, “Show him in, you twit, and then go back to your usual loitering on the front stoop.”

Jamie gave me a quick shrug as if to say, “I did warn you,” then let himself back out again. I removed my overcoat and hung it on one of the pegs in the entrance before calling out, “Severus? Where are you?”

“The kitchen,” he replied sharply. “Stay where you are, I’ll be out momentarily.”

I sighed and took the time to make myself acquainted with Snape’s library. He hadn’t been joking about the entire collection of Lockhart’s works, there they all were, neatly lined up beside what appeared to be a full set of some Muggle series about boy detectives. Someone certainly had taken a malicious degree of pleasure in restocking his shelves with volumes guaranteed to drive the man into a full frothing fury. I wondered vaguely if boredom had ever driven him to page through any of those Hardy brothers books, though I quickly thought better of actually asking him.

Severus stalked into the living room, looking only slightly less intimidating than a Dementor. Though I had to admit, a great deal of that could be attributed to the fact that he was wearing a cream colored apron over his black jumper and slacks. I found myself absolutely mesmerized by it, so much so that I completely missed his first words to me. “I’m...I’m sorry, what did you say?”

Folding his arms and drawing himself up to his full, impressive height, he snapped, “I thought you were meant to be assisting me, Lupin. Honestly, if I’d known how useless you were going to be I’d have chosen...” At that moment he followed my gaze down to the apron, rolled his eyes heavenward, then sneered, “Oh grow up. Yes I’m wearing one of my mother’s aprons, it keeps my clothing tidy. Now if it isn’t too much to ask, could we please get down to business?”

“Yes, Severus, of course,” I was immediately contrite, and reminded that I had, in fact, come here for a reason.

“I’ll need a copy of Beasley and Brown’s ‘Beyond Brewing’, but make certain it’s the second volume, the third is utter rubbish.” He handed me a notepad and pencil, and then gestured for me to make use of them at once.

I nodded and made a note, carefully underlining ‘volume two’. “Anything else, Severus?”

“A complete write-up from the Necromancer on each of the victims, I haven’t the equipment nor the necessary skill-set to do a reliably accurate autopsy here. I suppose I’ll just have to hope that Ministry appointee is at least reasonably reliable. Although, I wouldn’t mind taking a look at samples of the stomachs and intestinal tracts of each of the victims, where possible, of course.”  
“I believe that can be arranged,” I undoubtedly sounded a little less than enthusiastic about this request, but thankfully I could rely upon Ms. Wildersock to supply these rather distasteful necessities. Almost afraid to voice the question, I warily sighed, “Anything else?”

“Yes,” he paused as if considering his words carefully. “I’ll need access to a wand.”

I’d been waiting for this request, dreading it really. He was right, of course, he did require one, but the Ministry was more likely to grant him access to a hippogriff than a fully functional wand. And to be honest I wouldn’t blame them, indeed it was one of the few sensible decisions those bureaucrats had ever managed to agree upon. “I...Severus, I don’t think...”

“No excuses, Lupin, and no arguments, just make it happen.”

“Severus, Scrimgeour isn’t going to allow it, you know that.”

“Oh bugger Scrimgeour and use your bloody brains, you blithering idiot! This house has sufficient wards on it to protect anyone inside or out from anything more powerful than a stinging hex, I certainly wouldn’t be able to Apparate away, any more than I could on the grounds of Hogwarts. And I will swear to you that once we have stopped this murderer I will turn the wand back over to you without so much as an argument. While it is in my possession it will only be used to accomplish our mission, no more, no less. Are these terms under which you can, in good conscience, procure this item for me? If not it would be best to end our association here and now, because it will be utterly impossible for us to succeed.”

I chewed my lip thoughtfully for several long seconds, everything he’d just said was entirely true. And yet, I was hesitant to simply agree. The idea that he’d meekly hand it over when the murderer had been caught seemed more than a little farfetched. He was planning something, or would do given half a chance and access to a wand. Could I stay a step ahead of him? Did I trust myself to make certain that he wouldn’t find a way to harm anyone, even himself? And why was I so certain he would try?

Finally I met his black eyes and said softly. “Very well, but the wand remains in my possession unless I’m here to monitor its use. Is that agreed?”

His lips quirked so swiftly that I couldn’t be sure whether it had been intended as a smile or a frown. “Agreed. Now I’d like to create a password of sorts. We’re dealing with a killer who’d be quite adept at whipping up a Polyjuice potion and I’ve no intention of becoming one of the victims. Come up with something, preferably something memorable but wholly unrelated to me.”

I pondered that for a moment, and the most preposterous thing leapt into my mind. It fit all the criteria he’d proposed, and then some. “All right, let it be...Stubby Boardman.”

One sleek eyebrow lifted, but he made no further comment. “When I summon you, I’ll expect you to arrive immediately, and if I’ve previously asked you to acquire something for me you will have it on your person, agreed?”

“Yes, Severus. I’d appreciate it, though, if you’d restrict your summons to after works hours. I really do need to keep my job. And of course there’s the night of the full moon…and a few days after, to be on the safe side.”

“I can’t guarantee anything, of course, but I will do my best.” Even as he said it my heart began to sink. Bastard.

“In the meantime I need time to consider possible suspects. I’ll begin among my former students, though I hold out precious little hope of finding the killer there.”

“I could obtain a full list of NEWTs level graduates in Advanced Potions if it would help.”

Pursing his thin lips, Severus muttered, “Not everyone who managed a passing grade on their Potions NEWTs would have the necessary higher brain functions clearly displayed by the killer. After all, your wife managed to pass, barely, and I’d hardly consider her a viable suspect.”

“Of course not! She’d never...”

“...have the brains or physical coordination necessary to pull it off, quite true. Not to mention the fact that this killer has a certain sense of...style. Something your wife sorely lacks.”

I sighed, leaned back in my seat and folded my arms across my chest. “May I ask precisely what purpose this sniping at Dora is supposed to serve? Or should I simply chalk it up to jealousy?”

“I realize this may be difficult for you to grasp, but I’m perfectly capable of disliking your wife independent of your relationship to her. If you’ll recall I had the dubious pleasure of educating her, as a matter of fact I’m very sorry to say that I’ve known her a great deal longer than you have. I believe that makes me something of an expert on the subject of Nymphadora Lupin, nee Tonks...much as I wish that were not the case. If you had any idea how much damage she wrought in my classes...”

“Oh come now, she couldn’t have been any worse than Nev-...”

There was a long moment of silence after that stupidly thoughtless remark, then Severus muttered a quiet, “Yes, well I try not to speak ill of the dead. Except, of course for my former Lord and Lucius Malfoy, both of whom were enormous bastards.”  
I couldn’t help smiling just a bit at that, it was the first time I could remember Severus making a joke that wasn’t at my expense, or Dora’s; that was, in fact, meant to make me feel a bit better after a idiotic slip.

“Did I ever tell you that I was there in Azkaban the day Lucius was informed about Draco’s defection? It was positively delicious.” Severus’ thin lips stretched into a grim smile. “There were actual tears of fury. It was everything I’d dared to dream and more. I’m told he never spoke another word.”


	9. Chapter 9

Dolores Umbridge was victim number three. I can’t say that I, or for that matter most of the wizarding world, viewed her death as a tragic loss. She was an odious woman before the war, and an insufferable, dishonest, scheming waste of a wand afterwards. 

Of course, I’m biased, as she was the central unifying leader of the anti-lycanthrope faction that kept some rather horrid laws on the books for many months after the last Death Eater was rounded up and locked away. Thanks to Albus, Arthur Weasley, and a host of others I was able to keep my head above water, financially speaking, but only just. That her bigotry and narrow-mindedness held sway even as short a time as it did continues to rankle me to this day.

In typical schoolyard bully fashion she used her position at the Ministry to whine to every media outlet that would litter their pages with her words, about how she’d only been thinking of the public good. After all werewolves were not to be trusted, didn’t Fenrir Grayback prove as much? And of course if hundreds of the rest of us, some newly bitten during the Second War, were discriminated against as well, too bad.

In a shocking display of good sense the Minister let her go shortly thereafter. I believe he cited something about misappropriation of department funds, at least publicly. What went on between the two behind closed doors remains a mystery, but she left the building as meekly as a lamb. 

I actually seriously considered voting for Scrimgeour in the next election after that.

But I should say that despite my low opinion of the woman, her macabre demise was not one I would’ve wished on anyone. It seems she spent most of her days at a local Witches’ Society called the “Daughters of Hecate”, a venerable club of older women who seemed to fill their time with discussions on the topic of the latest advances in designer cauldrons. They excelled in snobbery, malicious gossip, and inflating one another’s sense of self-importance. In short, an Umbridge paradise.

After one such meeting she returned home, ordered her house elf, Jinx to prepare her dinner, and then retired to bed promptly at 9 pm. When Jinx entered her mistress’ bedroom the following morning, she found the dried, desiccated corpse of Dolores Umbridge between the covers.

I glanced up at Severus as I finished reciting the details of the latest murder. He was sitting in his chair by the window, gazing outside, his eyes half-lidded and rather vacant. Frowning, I muttered, “Severus, are you listening?”

“Of course,” he returned, steepling his fingers and continuing to stare off in the distance. “I heard everything you said. Poor Dolores, though I suppose on the bright side her family will be able to purchase a much smaller coffin than anticipated. Should save her next of kin a tidy sum.”

“That’s a terrible thing to say,” I replied feebly, it was simply a reflexive response.

Snape shrugged in return and finally met my eyes. “I don’t suppose you’ve managed to lay your hands on a sample of the poison?”

“Not yet, the house has been searched but the Aurors haven’t found anything out of the ordinary. Poor Jinx was interrogated for hours. They’ve turned their attention to the Daughters of Hecate, the ladies apparently meet at one of the posher tea houses in Diagon Alley.”

“No other deaths among their members since the last meeting?”

I shook my head and sighed. “No, if the poison was administered there the killer seems to have made sure that only Dolores would fall prey to it. Small favors, I suppose.”

“Torridus is a notoriously unstable brew, it’s an odd choice given the circumstances of Umbridge’s death. The killer must have managed to find a way to work a time delay into its action. But why?”

“No witnesses?” I offered, sitting down across from him on the sofa. “Or maybe to throw us off the scent, send us searching her home before turning to the club?”

“If this person wanted to avoid witnesses they botched rather badly with Neville’s death, didn’t they? No, the killer doesn’t give a damn who sees the death, there’s nothing they can do to stop it and there’s nothing they can possibly add to the investigation of it.” He leaned forward and gazed at me steadily. “I can think of two more plausible explanations, the first is that the killer has established a ‘theme’ if you will, and adherence to the theme, in this case death in the victim’s home or rooms, is of vital importance to them. Such importance, in fact, that they’d go out of their way to fiddle with this potion’s formula in order to accomplish this end. The second is...”

“Yes?”

“The second is that the killer is trying to impress us.”

“Impress how?”

He sat back abruptly and folded his hands. “I’ve told you that the Torridus Potion is unstable, but that’s an understatement. It is one of the most delicate potions a master will ever brew. It makes Wolfsbane seem simple-minded by comparison. If this person has managed to stabilize the formula,” Snape paused for a moment and worried his lip, “they’re a bloody genius.”  
“So no one’s ever done this before?”

“Correct.”

“Could you do it?”

Snape turned to look out the window once again. Finally he said, “I’m not sure.”

***

Several days later, I arrived to find the various and sundry ingredients, piles of autopsy reports, and the potion specimens Severus had requested were being put to what I hoped was very good use. Some sort of Muggle magnification device was seated prominently on his worktable, around it were a variety of vials, tubes, bottles, and a small cauldron. I could only imagine the state of what was formerly his kitchen if the paraphernalia of his work had spilled over into the sitting room. Several bookshelves had been cleared, and the books stacked to create temporary workbenches of a sort, and each was piled high with scrolls, quills and ink.

Severus had been very busy, indeed.

I stared at the wall now covered entirely in what appeared to be potions formulas, certain ingredients in each were circled in red, and those ingredients formed a longer list filled with notes. I leaned in closer to read one set.  
 **  
‘Neville Longbottom: (Confervefacio Potion) Camellia, White Rose, Cedar**

**Pansy Parkinson: (Exsanguis Potion) White Clover, Coltsfoot, Heliotrope**

**Dolores Umbridge: (Torridus Potion) Syrian Mallow, Mezereon, Clematis'**

Snape was sitting close to the window glaring at a sheet of notepaper as if expecting it to spontaneously offer him some vital piece of information. It might be a pointless endeavor, but I had the feeling he wouldn’t take my interrupting him kindly. Still, I was viciously curious about what looked to me like a possible new insight into the crimes. I decided to risk it and asked, “Severus, what does this mean?”

The former Potions Master finally looked up and turned towards me, bleary-eyed with exhaustion. “What? Oh, yes, they’re extraneous ingredients.” He stood up and joined me at the wall. “They simply don’t belong in the formulas the killer is using, they don’t effect the efficacy of the poisons, neither do they detract from them. I began to wonder if there might not be some sort of a message there from the killer.”

“A message?” I couldn’t begin to understand what he was talking about. “You mean like an anagram or something?”

He focused again on his notes with an intensity I would’ve thought beyond a man so clearly weary, and shook his head slowly. “I’d wondered that at first too, but note that there are always three extraneous ingredients, but none beginning with a vowel. I tried every combination I could think of, however, after several fruitless hours something occurred to me. All of the plants have another significance. Lupin, have you ever done any reading on the subject of floriography?”

My clearly puzzled expression was answer enough.

He waved his hand dismissively. “No matter. Floriography is the language of flowers, it was originally developed in the Middle East, but it was made famous by the Victorian era Muggles. There are entire dictionaries devoted to the subject. You see the era was particularly repressive, and so Muggles devised this means of communicating with one another while remaining within the bounds of propriety. It was actually rather clever, and even today a few have managed to retain their original meanings. But the true language, the subtle dialect of flora is now known only to an interested few. I suspect that our killer is among that number.”

“I see...I think. So you believe that the killer is trying to say something through these flowers? Send some sort of message? Maybe explaining why he’s choosing his victims or maybe why he’s killing in the first place?”

“Perhaps.” The way he said that one word made it entirely too clear that he didn’t believe I was on the right track at all. “But I rather think the killer might be saying something else entirely.”

“Such as?”

“I’m not quite sure, not yet, but don’t you find it odd that the killer would choose this particular language, one that I’m familiar with, and here I am consulting on the case.” He looked at me then, his eyes bloodshot but crackling with intensity. “Don’t you find that at all...convenient?”

“Severus, it’s starting to sound to me like fatigue-induced paranoia. You need some rest.”

“There’s still too much to do, so much to do. I wonder sometimes how many more will die before I can discern the meaning behind these murders.”

I shook my head slowly and rather impulsively rested a hand on one of his stooped shoulders. “Severus I think we need to consider the possibility that there is no meaning, that these killings are just senseless sadistic acts.”

He glanced at my hand, then met my eyes again. “You’re wrong, Lupin, and that’s why the Aurors will never solve these crimes, unless the killer should become sloppy or bored. Nothing I’ve seen so far would lead me to the conclusion that we should count on that particular outcome. No, Lupin, if you want examples of simple senseless violence and sadism think back to the actions of the Death Eaters. Merlin knows they excelled at both. These deaths have been planned with exquisite care, consideration, and even a certain aesthetic sensibility.” I flinched away from him then, a little horrified at the comment. He seemed to wilt a bit more, then sighed, “Yes, I rather thought you might react this way.”

“Well, of course!” I turned away from him in disgust. “How can you possibly...I mean honestly!”

“Leave it then. Just...just leave it. I am tired and it’s late, you should go.”

“Yes, I suppose I should, Dora...well, she’ll probably wonder where I am.” Why I bothered with the lie was beyond me, but somehow I couldn’t quite bring myself to admit that I’d be going home to face an empty bed. Just as I had for months.  
If he noticed the clumsy deception, he was unexpectedly gracious enough to pretend not to. He simply waved a weary arm and slowly wandered off toward the back of the house.


	11. Chapter 11

_“Thou speak’st like a physician, Helicanus,  
That minister’st a potion unto me  
That thou wouldst tremble to receive thyself.”_

_Pericles Prince of Tyre Act 1, Scene 2_

 

I returned to Spinner’s End the next day, after having spent several fruitless hours studying the subject of floriography. I’d received permission, direct from the Minister himself, to devote myself entirely to the investigation for the remainder of the week; though my supervisor, Thaxter Twesberry was decidedly displeased at losing one of his more competent employees for the next few days. 

Unfortunately, I felt even farther from whatever breakthrough Severus seemed to have made than ever. I found him sitting once again at his makeshift desk, pouring over what seemed to be literally scrolls full of notes. He barely glanced up as I entered the sitting room and said, “Severus, this doesn’t make any sense.”

“Oh? What a shame, I’d been so counting on you putting the entire affair to rest all on your own over the past 48 hours.”

I chose to ignore him and continued on, “The killer can’t be using floriography to convey some meaning, unless they’re infatuated with the victims. The ingredients they’re choosing, they’re all indicative of love and adoration. They’re meant for use between sweethearts. Which makes no sense unless we’re looking for a bisexual potions expert who seems to fall in love roughly every two weeks or so, and then for some inexplicable reason destroys their would be lover.”

“The killing itself would actually fit into your hypothesis better than you think. Consider the phrase, ‘If I can’t have you, no one will’. Perhaps the killer is simply being frustrated in his or her advances and reacting in a violent manner. But,” here he paused and leaned back in his chair to gaze at me, “your theory falls apart when we take into consideration the actual victims. Ms. Parkinson might fit, but you’d be hard pressed to convince me that anyone could be obsessively devoted to Neville Longbottom. And I think we’d both agree to the absurdity of it when we move on to Dolores.”

“Well, there you are then, the floriography idea doesn’t work, so that puts us right back at square one, doesn’t it?”

His lips twitched slightly. “There’s a fatal flaw in your logic, Lupin. I must say I’m astonished that you haven’t recognized that yet. Shall I give you a bit more time to consider what that might be?”

My eyes narrowed as I threw myself onto the sofa, one of the few clear spaces left in the house. “Severus, you’re not now, nor have you ever been my professor in any subject...thank the merciful Fates. I realize you get precious little chance to impress upon others your innate intellectual superiority these days, but if you could perhaps refrain from being such a smug git and just point out my error I’d greatly appreciate it.”

For once he didn’t seem to take the slightest offense at my snappishness, and returned mildly, “The killer’s message isn’t directed at the victims.”

“What?”

Snape smiled, folded his hands, and said, “The victims are...a palette, if you will. They are the medium upon which the killer creates his message.”

I shook my head. “But they’re the ones who’ve been killed, surely that’s where the killer’s anger and frustration are directed.”

“And I would argue that they are, in a large sense, quite incidental.” He held up one, long, slender hand before I could protest. “I’m not saying that the victims have been chosen entirely at random, not at all, rather that the killer has no particular emotional attachment to any of them. Their deaths are playing into a larger fantasy that our murderer is enacting. Consider this, the murderer isn’t even present at the time of death. If this is some sort of revenge for a perceived emotional wrong, where’s the satisfaction in the taking of that life? There’s no visceral thrill to be had by reading about it in the morning Prophet. If the killer felt wronged by the victims he or she would want to be there as they suffered through the final seconds of their lives. They’d want to see it, no, need to see it. Just hearing or reading about it wouldn’t be enough, no, not nearly enough.”

“All right, I’ll grant that makes a certain disturbing kind of sense. But if the messages aren’t for them, then who?”

He shrugged carelessly. “Perhaps it’s meant for some long lost lover who jilted them, or some current paramour who remains ignorant of their affection. The interesting part is how they’re choosing to send this rather macabre love letter of sorts. To the best of my knowledge information regarding the additional ingredients hasn’t been released to the public at large. If they meant to get it written up in the Prophet they’re going to be sorely disappointed. But if that were the case, why not just write into the Aurors or the Prophet itself? It wouldn’t take much to focus publicity on this aspect of the killings, should the murderer wish to. So why haven’t they?.”

“Perhaps they’re leery of giving the authorities too much information, for fear of being caught?”

“So far their actions would seem to indicate to me an almost complete indifference towards the Aurors and their investigation of these crimes. The killer is competent, intelligent and organized, not exactly a combination that would lead me to believe they’d see themselves as vulnerable in any sense. We’ve had three deaths and the only real clues are those consciously left by the killer, does that sound like someone fearful to you?”

I sighed and rubbed one temple slowly. “No, no I don’t suppose it does. So basically what you’re saying is that we have a killer attempting to send a ‘love letter’ of sorts to some unknown person via a rather cryptic code. Severus, if they’ve gone to such detail in the deaths themselves surely they’ve thought out how the person is meant to receive the message and work out its meaning.”

“I would agree. That is why I suspect that the person in question to whom the killer is trying to communicate is someone working on this case.”

That revelation stunned me silent for a moment. “An Auror, then?”

“Possibly. Certainly someone they could be reasonably sure would be assigned to work on the murders. But beyond that, someone they knew would understand and correctly interpret their subtle message, or have it interpreted for them.” He stood then and stretched before returning to the notes he had tacked to the wall.

Without warning, Severus turned back to me and asked, “Did you procure the wand I requested?”

“I...yes.” Fishing about in my robes, I managed to find it at last and present it to him. “Do you need it?”

“Do you think I would’ve asked for it if I didn’t?” He held out his hand in his typical imperious manner.

I hesitated, then said, “You do remember the terms of our agreement, yes?”

Severus’ expression darkened at once. “You sound like a fucking Prefect.”

“I was a fucking Prefect, if you’ll recall, and you’re not getting this wand until I have some assurance that you recall the terms under which you’ll have access to it.”

“I recall...everything.” The tone of his voice made it quite clear that he’d tucked this particular humiliation away in that carefully guarded spot he’d hoarded all of his life’s slights in for so many years. “Give me the bloody wand.”

I considered, for just a moment, telling him whose wand it was that he would be using. I wondered if it might cool his ardor for it. No, that’s not quite true, I knew damn well he’d never as much as touch the thing if he knew it had once been Sirius’. A spare that had passed to me along with a trunk full of boyhood memories when Grimmauld Place was officially turned over to Harry’s ownership. 

But if he wanted it, there must be a reason, and probably a very good one at that. I could hamper the investigation through my childishness, or worse, cause him to abandon it altogether. And to what end? It was perfectly understandable that Severus would couch his request in the most demanding and haughty tone possible, it was simply his manner. I couldn’t possibly control his words or actions, but I bloody well could do my own, and annoyed or not, it was my responsibility to see to it that he had everything he needed to assist the investigation. I’d made it my responsibility, and I wasn’t about to let the Minister down. With a slight sigh I placed the ebony wand in his hand.

He snatched at it, as if a little afraid I might change my mind at the last second. For a moment he seemed to simply gaze at it, then he ran the fingers of his long, thin hand along the length. He lifted it awkwardly, as stiffly as a first year clutching his first wand. His hand shook just a bit, but he quickly stilled it when he realized I’d noticed. Turning, he aimed the wand with a bit more effort than he might once have done, and set several burners alight. Their green flames danced beneath one of the small cauldrons, and a clear beaker whose contents began to bubble almost immediately. And then, rather amazingly, Snape set the wand down on his worktable and began to shuffle through several sheets of parchment, studying each with intense interest. He snatched up a quill after several seconds and set to furious work, seemingly having forgotten entirely about the wand. I had to admit I was both surprised and a bit disappointed by the reaction.

I sat there for a moment or two longer, feeling utterly useless and wondering if there weren’t something I might be doing to help. Paging through a text on rare poisons and their ingredients, while trying desperately to come up with at least one or two notes of interest, kept me busy for all of ten minutes before my mind began to wander. It wasn’t long before I set the book aside, then broke down and asked, “What are you doing?”

Severus glanced up from his parchment and sighed, “I’m attempting to summarize my impressions of the killer to date.”

“Oh?” I stood up and moved closer to him, reading what he’d written down so far. “Organized. Methodical. Meticulous. Brilliant. Dedicated. Severus, it almost sounds as if you admire this maniac.”

His lips twitched as he drawled, “Perhaps I do, Lupin. I believe admiration may be well deserved in this case. This is a worthy adversary, Lupin, a very worthy adversary. It would be absurd not to respect him. No, worse, it would be incautious. And if there’s one thing I most certainly am, it’s cautious.”

“No argument. But I don’t really see how this accomplishes much.”

Shrugging, he replied, “Perhaps not, but it does help me to organize my thoughts. The only problem is that this list is much too long. I need to find the essence of this person. I shouldn’t need more than a single word to summarize him, and yet...”

“And yet?”

“And yet.” He agreed almost amiably.

I returned to my seat with a rueful smile, my brain buzzing with curiosity. How on earth did he imagine he’d be able to summarize a killer about whom we knew next to nothing? But something else was bothering me, something I couldn’t quite put my finger on. Finally, I blurted out, “One word.”

“What?”

I nibbled on the end of my pencil, then clarified, “If you had to use one word to describe me what would it be?”

“You’re not serious.”

“I am, though. One word.”

“And I suppose I’m not allowed to use ‘werewolf’?”

“I should say not.”

Severus rolled his eyes and sighed dramatically. “One word that sums you up presently is annoying. However, if I had to choose one to sum you up altogether...”

“Yes?”

“Honestly?”

I frowned. “Is that your word?”

“No, I mean do you honestly want to know?”

“Yes, yes I do.” 

“All right, then I would say ‘inoffensive’.”

“’Inoffensive’? That’s it?” I’m not sure whether I was pleased, offended or disappointed. “When you think of me that’s immediately what springs to mind?”

“Yes,” he returned as if daring me to contradict him. Tapping the feathered quill against his lips thoughtfully, he added, “Now, if I could just simplify my impressions of the killer as easily we might begin making serious progress.”

I rested my chin on my fist and sighed, “Wouldn’t you like to know which word I would choose to describe you?”

“Not in the slightest.”

“Really? Not even a little curious?”

“Lupin,” Snape returned, glaring up at me, ”I think I can safely say that I’m well acquainted with what you and your now deceased chums thought of me. I assure you that I retain absolutely no curiosity on that subject. Now, if you don’t mind I’d like to return to my work…if that isn’t too much to ask, of course.”

“Severus, that was ages ago! Honestly, man, we were children. Children say horrible things, but they don’t necessarily mean them. I have, whether you believe it or not, actually changed my mind on a variety of subjects in the past 20 years. And I can assure you that I wouldn’t be here now relying on your expertise if I didn’t have a great deal of faith in you as both a man and a potion’s master.”

Severus refused to look at me, focusing instead upon the piece of parchment before him. “Yes, well, I suppose enlightened self interest would tend to lead one to change one’s opinion, even of one’s most despised enemy.”

“Despised enemy? Merlin’s sake, Severus, I don’t… I mean I’ve never… Well, all right perhaps there was a time, particularly third year, parts of fourth, and certainly most of fifth to be totally honest…”

“Lupin, this really isn’t the time…”

I stood up and walked over to his worktable, leaning over him; he continued to studiously ignore me. “Severus, I don’t think of you as an enemy. I will admit that for a time after Albus’ death I did, but I think you’ll grant that I had good cause to at that point.” I leaned down to bring our eyes level and then plucked the parchment from his fingers. That, at least, got his attention. “When I learned the truth, when I understood what you had sacrificed through your Vow with Albus…well how could I possibly feel anything beyond the utmost respect for you? Severus, you risked everything, far more than the rest of us, and it was in very great part due to your efforts that Voldemort was stopped.”

Snape folded his hands together and met my eyes at last. “And so I’m expected to believe that my grand sacrifice completely changed your opinion of me, did it?”

“Yes, yes it did,” I blinked with surprise, straightening again and continued, “you’ve never been the easiest person to get along with, but while I may not always have liked you, I’ve always admired your mind, your skills, your self control…”

“I see.” Snape’s eyes were dark, shadowed, almost haunted. “And despite this change of heart, this…admiration…you were content to let me rot here, is that what I’m expected to believe?”

I flinched, but could think of no response to offer him.

“I suppose some injustices are easier to tolerate than others. After all, I was the cause of your dismissal from Hogwarts, that undoubtedly caused you a great deal of hardship. That’s not easily forgiven, is it, Lupin? I caused your suffering, and you turned your back on mine…fair is fair, after all.”

“I didn’t…I never meant…”

“No, of course you didn’t,” he stood at once, leaning over the table to jeer at me, “you never set out to cause harm yourself, you simply stand passively by and allow it to happen. Just as you always have. Twenty years have passed and yet you remain the same spineless, sniveling… **bystander** that you were back in school. What would it have cost you to speak out in my defense as the Aurors were dragging me away to Azkaban?” With one violent motion he sent the nearest sheets, books and quills flying in all directions. “If not to punish me then why? Why did you do nothing? Why were you content to allow me to whither away here, powerless, denied even the basic rights afforded the lowliest Squib? Why? Answer me that, if you can.”

“Severus, I…”

“Albus spoke in my defense, but he was the only one. The only one. And by that point he was simply the memory of a tired old man, whom most of the wizarding world had mourned and forgotten. He knew he wouldn’t survive the War, he’d left his pensieve and his painting as evidence in my favor. He still believed in justice, you see, after all these years he still…Despite everything that had happened. The old fool. I had no such faith, but you see, I wasn’t supposed to live either…and yet here I am.” The brunt of his fury had begun to ebb with each word he spoke, draining away his energy along with it. Sinking back into his chair, he rubbed a weary hand over his eyes and sighed, “I had hoped you’d ignored my plight out of hatred or bitterness, like that little shit Potter. I save his worthless life and make it possible for him to destroy Voldemort without following the fiend into the abyss, and how does he repay me? But that I understood, I accepted it. We were enemies, it made sense. But you…now I see that you simply didn’t care enough to either speak in my defense or to actively wish me ill. Indifference is far, far worse than hatred, Lupin…you’ll discover that someday.”

“I’m not going to apologize for my lack of malice where you’re concerned, Severus.”

“Really?” he returned almost carelessly. “Well, I must admit it makes for a rather refreshing change, you’re generally all too quick to apologize for even the most ridiculous of perceived offenses. But let that go. At least you managed to shake off your apathy when you realized I could be useful to you. I suppose I can take some comfort in that, hmm?”

“I didn’t come here just to use you, Severus, regardless of what you might like to think.” My words tumbled out too quickly, a hasty graceless attempt to keep from admitting a simple but horrid truth. I needn’t have bothered, no amount of bluster could change the fact that he was quite right. For the first time in my life I felt like an absolute bastard, and I didn’t like it in the slightest.


	12. Chapter 12

We worked in silence after that for several long hours. Or, I suppose I should say, Severus worked while I did my best to look useful. I wandered from one area of the sitting room to another, attempting to discern the pattern of his thoughts.  
I jotted down a summary of what I believed to be the salient conclusions that Severus had drawn so far. I had to have something to tell the Minister, something that would reassure him that Severus’ efforts would lead us to the actual killer.  
It was, in a word, pathetic.

To the best of my understanding he’d basically realized that the potions used to kill each of the victims contained three extraneous ingredients. Interesting, to be sure, but hardly the sort of profound understanding of the crimes that would impress the Minister. To say nothing of the fact that it brought us no closer to actually finding the killer.

I sighed and gazed at the various parchments pinned to the wall, which mostly seemed to consist of Severus’ thoughts on each of the victims and what might tie each of them together. Of course, none of the comments would be of the slightest use to anyone but him.

For example, one sheet was covered in the following notes:  
 **  
Pansy ⇒ Dolores bitchy know it all’s, Neville (?)  
Pansy ⇒ Neville utterly useless students, Dolores temporary Headmaster (?)  
Neville ⇒ Dolores both employed in some capacity by the Ministry, Pansy (?)**

Not exactly the sort of information likely to pacify an angry Minister on a tear, indeed it was far more likely that it would have quite the opposite effect. I frowned and set aside the parchment with disgust. It wasn’t as if Severus weren’t working, I could readily attest to that fact, but we simply didn’t seem to be making any serious progress.

I threw myself into a chair near Snape and gazed around the room hopelessly. I’d just have to make the best case I could to Scrimgeour and hope that the man was willing to be reasonable. It had been known to happen from time to time, surely he couldn’t expect Severus and I to pull together the various and sundry threads of this knotty mystery in just two short weeks. He’d give us more time. He’d have to. I picked up my nemesis, the floriography text, and clutched it to my chest like a talisman.

I believe it was the prolonged absence of the small, busy little noises I’d grown accustomed to hearing Severus make as he went about his business that first drew my attention back to him. My eyes slowly wandered to the right, the rest of my face followed until I was looking directly at Severus who’d been leaning closer and closer to me. Before I’d even realized I was speaking, I blurted out, “Why are you sniffing my hair?”

“No...no I wasn’t.” Severus had mastered the art of the indignant sniff. He looked out the window briefly, then back to me.

“Well, what if I was?”

I blinked then stammered, “I don’t know...I just...Well why on earth would you want to?”

He seemed a little puzzled about that, himself. “I...it smells nice.”

“Nice?”

“Like fresh air and sun. It’s always smelled that way.”

My mouth opened, shut, then reopened. “What? Do you mean you’ve been sniffing my hair for a while now?”

“...Perhaps.”

“Well why not go outside in the sun for a bit yourself, then?”

“It won’t work.”

“Why not? What does yours smell like?”

“Like something unpleasant.” His lips stretched into a scowl. “Too many years of potions work combined with an unfortunate body chemistry.”

“Oh surely not that unfortunate.” I smiled then, a little uncertainly. I didn’t want it to come off as flip or mocking and Merlin knew today it would take next to nothing to raise his defenses.

“Quite unfortunate enough.”

“I’ve never...thought so.”

He met my eyes then, and if not for the wards I’d have sworn he was attempting Legilimency. The sensation was almost identical, dizzying, confusing, a little frightening even. “You didn’t?”

“No.” Why did my voice sound so far away? “No, not at all.”

He blinked first, then hurriedly looked away. “I see. Well we...we should...”

“Yes. Yes, there’s um....This text on floriography, it’s very....”

“Yes.”

I cleared my throat uncomfortably. “Yes.”

***

I returned to the Apparations Licensing office first thing Monday morning. I hadn’t received any further instructions from Severus, and to be quite frank I’d been little more than a hindrance to his work from what I could discern. If I couldn’t be of any use in the investigation at present, I could at least stamp a few dozen licensing applications to reassure myself that I still served some purpose to someone.

Small comforts, and all that.

I had almost managed to make a sizable dent in the ominous pile of applications teetering precariously on the right corner of my desk by mid-afternoon. I’d been so focused on my work until then that I hadn’t really paid much attention to the reactions of my coworkers to my reappearance in their midst. No one had said a word to me since I’d arrived, but that wasn’t entirely unheard of. I kept myself to myself most days, and everyone was well aware of it. However, the odd looks were something quite new indeed.

It wasn’t anything blatant, or hostile, simply curious sideways glances. I supposed Twesberry must have let it slip that I was on special assignment for the Minister. I didn’t blame him for doing so, there would have been questions about my absences and Fates knew gossip spread through the office with only slightly less speed than an express owl on Pepper-Up potion. Best to put a quick stop to it with the simple truth, I supposed.

Without really meaning to I found myself gazing absently out the nearest window, my mind traveling north to that small, cramped house in Spinner’s End. I wondered what Severus was doing just then. Was he annoyed that I hadn’t appeared to offer him my befuddled questions, or perhaps more importantly, access to a wand? Was he wondering where I was? Or perhaps he was staring out his own window remembering the scent of sunshine and fresh air.

I lingered over that last thought for a moment or two longer. Dora had never mentioned that my hair smelled nice, not even once in the entire time we’d been married. Before I could follow that thought any further the window panes became opaque and bold black letters appeared on them spelling out, ‘Don’t you have work to attend to?’

Frowning, I was reminded that enchanted glass, be it windows or mirrors, was a complete waste of a perfectly good spell. I’d never encountered a pleasant example of spelled glass in my life; they were nasty, unpleasant, and tetchy the lot of them. Before I looked away the panes spelled out, ‘Slacker.’ I rolled my eyes and turned back to my work.

By two I was famished, and decided to go to the commissary for a bite to eat. It was as good an excuse as any to absent myself from the office and allow my coworkers to discuss me with impunity. It was only polite, after all.

I hadn’t gotten two steps beyond the door when a familiar voice caught my attention, and I turned immediately to smile warmly at Mina Wildersock who was hurrying over to me. She fell into step beside me and chirped, “Great timing, Remus, I was just on my way to grab a bite myself, mind if I join you?”

“No, not at all, I’d be delighted.” Indeed I was downright flattered.

“Perfect.” She grinned and pushed open the commissary door, holding it for me as we entered. We claimed a table towards the rear of the enormous room and had barely seated ourselves before one of the staff House Elves appeared to take our order, and vanished just as quickly to fetch our lunches. Fortunately, arriving as late as we had the main lunch crowd had already come and gone, which meant not only that our service would be quite fast indeed, but that we could speak to one another in relative privacy. Mina wasted no time in making use of it. “All right, c’mon Remus, give. I want to hear everything.”

“Everything?” I replied, spooning truly ridiculous amounts of sugar into my tea, as per usual. “Would that I had something to tell you at this point. Unfortunately, at the moment I’m afraid we might be…what’s the term for it? ‘Spinning our wheels’?”  
She took her coffee black, sipping it slowly and gazing up with obvious curiosity. “But isn’t Snape a Potions Master? I mean surely he’s come up with something?”

“Well…” I paused as our food arrived, nodded my thanks to the Elf, and when it vanished I continued, “perhaps things aren’t quite as grim as I made them out to be, we are making some progress. Or, at least, I believe we might be. But I rather doubt that it’s going to make much of an impression on Scrimgeour. I mean a few extraneous potions ingredients don’t exactly…”

“Extraneous ingredients?” Her blue gray eyes practically glinted with interest. “Do tell.”

“Mmm,” I mumbled around a mouthful of mashed potatoes. “I can get you a complete list of them if you’d like. They’re really not all that terribly interesting, except…”

“Except?” she prompted.

“Except, well he’s convinced that the ingredients actually have some secondary meaning. Perhaps a message of some sort. Though I think he may be on entirely the wrong track with that.”

“Sounds intriguing.” Mina dug into her own corned beef with relish. “So Snape believes the killer is trying to send some message about the victims? Maybe an explanation for why they were chosen in the first place?”

“Not exactly, but to be totally honest I think that makes a great deal more sense than his current theory.” I sighed and lowered my fork. “I’d like to say I have complete faith in the man, and I do know that I’m the one who originally suggested him for the job, but… Look, he’s a brilliant Potions Master, quite possibly the most brilliant in England, and I trust him implicitly when he tells me that the ingredients in each of the potions has been tinkered with. Beyond that, though, well I can’t say I have as much faith in his opinions I’m afraid.”

“So do you think he might be out of his depth?”

I pondered that for a moment. “This stays between us, yes?” She nodded, and I continued, “Then I’d definitely have to say that I think he’s out of his depth. The problem is currently he’s all we’ve got, and as unfair as it is, unless he somehow manages to miraculously solve this case on his own I’m…well, I’m afraid this is all going to end up being laid at Severus’ feet. You see people have gotten into the habit of blaming him for everything from the actions of each and every one of the Death Eaters to a new wart on their eldest child’s hand. Scrimgeour has the perfect scapegoat in Severus and I…well, I made it possible.”

Leaning back in my chair, I played with my string beans morosely. “He was being beaten, you know, the Minister himself was…I saw him hurting Severus, enjoying it. Scrimgeour will use this to hurt Severus too, I have absolutely no doubt about that whatsoever.”

Mina sat thoughtful and silent for several minutes before saying, “It’s not like you forced Snape to become involved, from what I’ve heard through the grapevine nobody forces him into anything. He made the choice to involve himself, and if he’s half as clever as you say he is, then I’d be willing to bet he realized he’d be the fall guy if things went badly.” She bit into one of her chips with decided relish, then continued, “He’s not some naïve kid, you know, and you…well despite your, um, disability, are not the big bad wolf.”

I nearly choked on the roll I’d been nibbling at.

“You’re way too hard on yourself, but I get the feeling that’s kind of a habit of yours.” She leaned forward and squeezed my hand gently. “I may not have known you for very long, Remus Lupin, but in my not so humble opinion you’re a pretty decent guy. A pretty damn smart one too, and I think between you, Snape and I we can get to the bottom of these murders. And to that end, I might just have something that will help.”

It was my turn to lean forward intently. “What?”

“I never quite gave up on locating the exact source of the poison that killed the Umbridge woman, and with a little luck and persistence I found it.” She reached into one of the inner folds of her red robe and withdrew a small vial. “Turns out, in a manner of speaking, that she poisoned herself, though how the killer managed it is beyond me. You see Dolores seems to have taken a page out of old Mad Eye’s book, and kept a flask on her person at all times. At first I thought it only contained some bargain basement scotch, but when I looked a little more carefully I found it.”

“The poison?” My pulse sped up and reached out greedily for the vial.

“Yeah.” Mina made no pretense of humility, rather grinned smugly. “Unfortunately it means that figuring out the probable time that she ingested the poison is just about fucking impossible. She could’ve taken a swig from that thing at any point in the day. But, I figure if your boy’s half as good as everyone says he is, he’ll probably be able to work a little metaphorical magic with that sample.”

I gazed at the vial as if it were the Philosopher’s Stone itself. “Mina, I could kiss you!”

She blushed a rosy pink, and smiled politely. “Maybe I’ll take you up on that some other time. For now, I’ll settle for a promise that you’ll keep me in the loop a little better from now on. Deal?”

Nodding enthusiastically, I returned, “Deal.”


	14. Chapter 14

I’d heard nothing from Severus for days and I dared to dream that I might have an entire weekend to myself. Despite Mina’s discovery I desperately wanted a little time to just quietly process everything that had happened in the previous weeks. Not, of course, that I actually had anything of any importance to do except putter around the flat. Still, it was rather nice to have two entire days to remove the clutter from my sitting room, cast a few tidying and laundry spells, and actually thumb through the book Severus had suggested I read.

I had to admit, the adventures of Sherlock Holmes and John Watson were surprisingly entertaining. Unfortunately, appealing as they were they simply served as a reminder that I was embroiled in a very real mystery of my own and that I was doing precious little to help solve it, which kept drawing me out of the stories and back into the real world. It was sitting there in my favorite chair sipping a cup of peppermint tea that I realized there actually was something I could do. 

I could go to Hogwarts and speak to Dolores Umbridge.

A quick note to Minerva was answered at once, and I’d have full access to Umbridge’s portrait for as long as I desired. Of course, when the Headmistress contacted me via floo she added a condition that I brief her in full on any information I managed to dredge up that might pertain to Pansy’s death. As I hadn’t exactly been given the most explicit instructions regarding what could and could not be shared, I felt reasonably comfortable in agreeing to her terms. After that she simply rolled her eyes and muttered a final, “I can’t imagine why you would want to speak to that creature, she’s never said anything of the slightest importance in her entire life.”

I had to admit she had a point. Still, I reassured myself that it couldn’t possibly do any harm to pose a few simple questions. At worst I’d spend a few unpleasant moments with the unappealing combination of pigments, personality and magic that comprised all that remained of Dolores Umbridge in this world.

Everyone had been a little surprised when her portrait had appeared in the Headmistress’ office at Hogwarts. True, she’d held the position, if briefly, and really more in name than spirit; still, technicality or no, there she was and there she would stay. Such was the nature of the deep and profound magics that governed and protected the school.

Hogwarts, however, wasn’t at all pleased about this turn of events; even less so, arguably, than the office’s current living resident. That quixotic and ancient spirit that inhabited every common room, hall and moving staircase expressed its displeasure at being forced to include Umbridge as one of its own in a rather fitting manner. She’d been scuttled into the darkest, draftiest, and least appealing corner of the office possible.

The portrait itself was tiny, cramped, and a rather slap-dash looking affair in all. The colors were murky at best, the setting dull and as bland as the art on a typical Ministry pamphlet. It was, in a word, pathetic, and Dolores was all too aware of the fact. “It’s unsupportable! Unthinkable that a woman of my known service to Minister and country, my unceasing loyalty to the Ministry and its laws, that I should come to such an end. It’s…it’s a crime!” Her tiny hands were balled into fists of impotent fury and her eyes bulged alarmingly. “You must speak to the Minister, surely he’d never stand for…”

I cut off what was clearly a well-rehearsed and oft-uttered tirade before she could work herself up to a complete frothing rage. “Yes, Ms. Umbridge, it’s quite a shame, quite a shame indeed.” I thought I caught just a hint of Phineas Nigellus’ mocking snicker somewhere off to my left. Ignoring it as best I could, I pulled out a small notepad and pencil, then continued, “I’ve been asked to participate in the investigation of the recent murders, yours included, I’m afraid.”

Umbridge peered up at me from the shabby confines of her portrait with narrowed, suspicious eyes. “You? Really?” her voice had taken on an all too familiar hint of calculation, a sly note of insinuation that set my teeth on edge. “I hadn’t realized you were now an Auror, Mr. Lupin.”

“I’m no Auror, I’ve just been asked to assist in the investigation.”

“Ahem-hem. Forgive me, Mr. Lupin, but in what capacity could someone…like you…hope to assist an official Ministry Investigation?”

“I suppose,” I sighed, choosing to gaze at the minute faux gold frogs that decorated the sad little frame that formed the boundaries of her world, “you’d need to pose that question to the Minister. I’m here under his authority.”

“I’m to believe that the Minister, a man with not inconsiderable resources at his disposal, would turn to…and you’ll forgive me, I’m sure, a somewhat unlikely candidate such as yourself. An employee of the Licensing Department with no formal training and a number of, shall we say, ‘health concerns’.” She’d leaned back in the rather uncomfortable looking chair on which she was seated, and gazed at me condescendingly. “I’m afraid I’m finding this all somewhat difficult to believe, Mr. Lupin. Indeed I find it far more likely that you simply made use of your friendship with that McGonagall woman to weasel your way into an interview with me. Are you hoping that by poking around into the distasteful details of this ugly affair you’ll somehow convince the Minister that you’re deserving of more responsibility…perhaps some sort of career advancement?”

“And as we all know,” Phineas drawled from his own portrait, “merely being involved in the investigation of a death as clearly vital to the wizarding world as your own could make or break a career, ‘ey Dolores?”

“How dare you? How dare you, Black? Keep your nose out of my business, do you hear me? He’s here to speak to me. Me!”

“And you repay his consideration with thinly veiled insults, ever the charmer, Dolores.”

“Oh go haunt Grimmauld Place, you antique!”

I cleared my throat uncomfortably. “Perhaps we could get back to the facts of the case, Ms. Umbridge?”

She sullenly replied, “Yes, yes, ask your questions.”

“Thank you.” I’d found a little graciousness never came amiss. “Now we’ve managed to piece together your schedule for the day from your personal calendar and the testimony of your House Elf. It would be helpful, however, if you could confirm your whereabouts that day.”

“I was at home for the vast majority of that time. I had certain…important correspondence to see to and…”

“Important correspondence my arse,” the former Headmaster sneered. “Preparing your latest placement in the Daily Prophets’ lonely hearts section, were you?”

“Please, Mr. Black,” I interrupted, quickly losing my patience with both of the bickering canvases. “I’m trying to conduct an interview.”

A third voice, both familiar and welcome, added, “Remus is quite right, Phineas, now be still and allow him to finish in peace. Go right ahead, my boy.”

I turned and smiled up at Albus Dumbledore gratefully. “Thank you.”

“Not at all.” Dumbledore’s eyes twinkled with barely contained amusement. “Do go on, this is all quite fascinating.”

“Now, where was I? Right. Ms. Umbridge, could you please continue?”

“As I was saying before I was so rudely interrupted,” Dolores huffed, “I spent the majority of the day working on my correspondence. After that I attended a meeting of the Daughters of Hecate, I’d recently been named secretary and as such I had a great many responsibilities that required my personal attention and…”

“Yes, that’s all quite fascinating, but I simply need to confirm that after the meeting you returned home. Did you stop anywhere else? Run any errands you hadn’t noted on your calendar?”

“No, no I went directly home to dinner, had a lovely meal and settled in with a fascinating book. I’d been so looking forward to reading the latest in the Nellis Leake Wild West wizarding series. Have you ever read them? They’re delightful, so exciting and romantic.” She paused a bit wistfully. “I don’t suppose I’ll ever get the chance to finish it now.”

I couldn’t help feeling a bit sorry for her really. “I suppose not. After you finished reading you went directly to bed?”

“Yes, I’m a great believer in a full eight hours of sleep each night.”

“And you felt quite well at that time?”

She nodded slowly. “Yes, I didn’t feel at all ill…I just drifted off to sleep and then…well, the next thing I remember was waking up here in this dreadful place.”

“I’m…I’m glad that you were spared any suffering, Ms. Umbridge.”

Dolores gazed up at me steadily, her face draining of its habitual insincere simper. “Thank you. That’s most kind.”

Clearing my throat, I continued, “Now we’ve discovered that the poison was placed in your flask somehow, what we’d like to know is exactly what time you drank from that flask and if anyone might have had access to it at any other time during…”

“What are you talking about?” The edge was back in her voice and her eyes narrowed with suspicion. “What flask? I don’t own a flask.”

“It was found among your personal items and the poison was located within it.”

“Found? Found by whom?”

I blinked with surprise. “I assume it was originally located by the Aurors and the poison itself was found by the Chief Necromancer.”

“They’re lying, it’s a complete and utter fabrication. I’ve never owned a flask in my life and I certainly didn’t make use of one that day.” She drew herself up haughtily and glared at me. “I have no idea what you hope to achieve from this little farce, Mr. Lupin, but if this is some sort of revenge for my work on the anti-lycanthrope laws…”

“Ms. Umbridge, I’m just trying to get to the truth of this matter. I understand that you might be somewhat…uncomfortable discussing this, but…”

Black began snickering with malicious glee. “Now, now Dolores, there’s nothing to be ashamed of, indeed given your fall from grace at the Ministry it stands to reason that you’d turn to the comforting embrace of liquor.”

“It’s a filthy lie!” Dolores bolted from her chair and flung herself at the edge of the canvas. “You just want to turn my death into a joke to gain some petty revenge on me, you disgusting monster! You vicious, evil beast! I knew I was right about your kind, you deserve to suffer, you deserve to die! It should be you in this pathetic little portrait, not me!”

“Please, Ms. Umbridge…” It was no use, none at all, but I had to make a token effort.

“Oh give up, Lupin,” Black overrode Dolores’ continuing tirade with calm disinterest. “She’s so utterly deluded herself for most of what constituted her sad little life, that she wouldn’t know the truth now if it walked up and Crucio’ed her.”

I sighed and rubbed my weary eyes, feeling a hideous headache building just behind my forehead. This was pointless, Umbridge would never admit to anything even vaguely embarrassing with Black in attendance, and it was quite possible that he was correct. Maybe she’d convinced herself of the truth of her words; maybe she simply couldn’t admit even to herself that she’d developed a drinking problem over the past few years.

Standing up, I moved away from her portrait, barely listening to the other portraits’ attempts to shush the frantic little woman. I wished them the best of luck, but thought it more likely that poor Minerva would be getting an earful for days, if not weeks, to come. Albus motioned me over and leaned forward to say, “I suppose that could’ve gone better, but I have to say it’s the most excitement we’ve had around here in ages.”

“I’m so sorry to have set her off like that, Albus, but I really had hoped that she might have something to add to our current information, something that might lead us closer to the killer.” I slumped, that familiar sensation of uselessness creeping over me again. “I just feel so helpless. Severus is doing everything he can but it just doesn’t seem as if we’re making any headway.”

“How is Severus?”

“He’s…Well, I really believe he’s trying his best to help. I think he wants to stop this killer as much as the rest of us do, if for no other reason than to show us all just how brilliant he truly is.”

Dumbledore smiled and ran his hand down his beard thoughtfully. “He’s always been so clever, almost too clever for his own good. But beyond that, you should trust his instincts, they may not always be completely accurate, but I’d trust his guesses over most peoples’ well researched conclusions.”

“I wish I felt as confident in my own contribution as I do about his,” I sighed dejectedly. “I can’t begin to understand why he’d choose me of all people to assist him.”

“Can’t you?” That disconcerting twinkle was back in Albus’ blue eyes. 

“No, Albus, I really can’t. Most of the time I find myself just trying to keep from being underfoot.”

“Well,” the Headmaster murmured, “Severus has always been very good at seeing the true worth of others, especially when they themselves are unaware of it. It’s something of a hidden talent, admittedly, but I suppose when one’s own value is often overlooked, it behooves you to view others a little more closely. Did you know that it was Severus who recommended you for the position of Defense Against the Dark Arts?”

I was staggered. “What?”

“He said, and I quote, ‘If you must saddle us with the latest in a long line of idiots, you might at least choose someone competent who isn’t likely to murder us all. As much as it pains me to say it, you could do worse than Lupin.’”

“He…really?” I had to sit down in Minerva’s chair, I simply couldn’t fathom what he was saying. 

“Of course he followed that with, ‘If he arrives wearing a turban, I reserve the right to hit him with a killing curse before he so much as steps off the train.’”

“But he always seemed to resent the fact that you’d overlooked him for me.”

“Ah, yes,” Albus actually blushed and smiled a little sheepishly. “You see that was something of a little ruse that Severus and I indulged in. I don’t know if you’re aware of this, but Severus has a knack for dramatics.”

“You don’t say.” I returned facetiously.

“I’m afraid our long term plans called for a bit of misdirection on both our parts.” He paused at my look, then corrected himself, “Very well, a great deal of misdirection. But I do think you’ll agree that we were playing a decidedly dangerous game against a worthy opponent.”

“I suppose it hadn’t really occurred to me just how intricate your plans were, how very much of your lives were wrapped up in the fight against Voldemort.”

Albus’ cerulean eyes met mine, and they held none of the mirth that I’d come to expect to find there. “You must understand, Remus, that the war was our life, from the time that James and Lily died, I’m afraid. Not even Minerva…” He shook his head and adjusted his spectacles before continuing, “I have always trusted Minerva with my life, but I’m afraid I couldn’t trust her with the taking of it. Can you understand that?”

“Yes…yes I think I can.”

“You can’t know what it meant to have someone walk into my office and offer his complete unstinting service. To watch him prove his faith in me day after day, despite my sometimes callous or thoughtless words. To know that in the end he would, at best, suffer for those very qualities that were so vital to our success. The guilt is unimaginable, Remus, it truly is.”

“Oh Albus.” My heart ached for the man who’d been more of a father to me than I’d even realized until that moment. I wished there was some way to absolve him, to reassure him that all the sacrifices, the horrible choices he’d been forced to make, had all been worthwhile. I couldn’t find the necessary words to express my gratitude, my firm belief that without Dumbledore’s leadership we would all now be serving a Dark Lord. 

“And that’s to say nothing of the horrible things you were forced to see and do in your time among the feral werewolves. I should never have asked you to do that, Remus. You were right, it was a futile gesture, and one that might well have gotten you killed.”

I lowered my head, feeling a wild mix of emotions I couldn’t begin to quantify. “Please, Albus, I was happy to help in any way I could, you must know that.”

“Ah Remus, in my long life I’ve made many decisions, most of which I came to regret. But the choice to allow you to attend Hogwarts…I have to say it was my single proudest moment. My very proudest.”

I clutched my notepad to my chest and muttered a hasty, “Thank you Albus that’s…that’s awfully kind…but I…I have to…”

“Of course, dear boy, of course, but do come back.”

I fled without a backward glance.


	15. Chapter 15

Bright and early the next morning I got the summons I’d been dreading for weeks…the Minister wished to see me. 

I entered the office with tremendous trepidation. The room was filled with a variety of Aurors, bureaucrats, and at least one familiar face. Mina stood out starkly against a sea of black robes in her bright crimson ones, and gave me a surreptitious wink. I relaxed slightly, but only slightly.

Doing my best to blend into the wall, I handled the frayed edge of my own tattered robe, reminding myself once again just how utterly out of my depth I currently was. I was a debt-ridden, second-rate licensing officer playing at being some sort of investigator. I couldn’t begin to imagine how I’d convinced myself I was in any way qualified to be here, amongst the Aurors and power brokers of the wizarding world. I’d been a complete and utter fool.

The Minister glanced up, his leonine eyes accessing my every shortcoming and weakness as if he were sizing me up for breakfast. It was decidedly disconcerting for someone so accustomed to thinking of himself as a dangerous predator to suddenly realize he was now someone else’s prey. I couldn’t help cringing a bit.

“Lupin, there you are. It’s time for an update.” He gestured for me to begin and I suddenly found myself the center of attention.

“Uh…I-I…that is.” I cleared my throat to cut short the idiotic stammering. Taking a deep breath, I tried again. “I’ve been working with Severus Snape,” I had to pause when several individuals made noises of disgust and anger at the sound of his name, “we’ve been taking a forensic approach to the investigation. Specifically, Snape has worked out the chemical composition of each of the potions from the Necromancer’s reports and his own rather profound experience.” I let that sink in, let them remember that Severus was a Potions Master, and honestly qualified to be involved in the investigation.

“Yes?” Scrimgeour barked. “And what has he discovered?”

“Ah, well, he’s found three extraneous ingredients in each of the poisons.”

Percy Weasley, who’d been quietly monitoring a Dicta-Quill just to the right of the Minister’s desk, looked up at that. “What’s the significance of the three ingredients?”

“He believes that the killer is using the ingredients to send a message.” 

“A message?” Asked an Auror with an eye patch and grizzled silver hair. “What kind of message, and to whom?”

“We’re…uh, we’re still working on that, but it seems to relate to floriography.” I received a room full of blank looks, except from Mina who smiled at me encouragingly. “It’s a somewhat obscure language used by Muggles for centuries to send a kind of coded message to one another. The messages, however, aren’t straightforward or easily understandable. It may take us some time to fully understand…”

Scrimgeour gave me a look of profound disgust. “Floriography? That’s it? That’s all you’ve got after all this time? Some absurd theory about hidden, indecipherable messages from a madman?”

“I…it’s…it’s early days yet, Minister and we’re working very hard to…” I got no further than that.

“This is all some absurd joke to Snape, isn’t it? I can’t say that surprises me in the least, but I’d thought more of you, Lupin. I’d thought you were a team player, someone truly interested in stopping these murders.”

“I…I am, sir, truly. And I assure you that Snape is quite serious about the investigation as well. He’s been utterly focused, really quite driven…”

“That vermin is sitting back chuckling while we all run around like mad trying to stop the killer. For all I know he may even be working with the fiend, it wouldn’t surprise me.” Scrimgeour rose up, his face flushed with anger. “Perhaps he simply needs a little incentive…a reminder of just how much he has to lose should he continue to treat this murder investigation like a game.” The last was delivered in a booming roar that caused everyone in the office to flinch and step back from the desk.

Only Percy Weasley seemed nonplussed, continuing to monitor the Dicta-Quill with complete composure. Everyone else scrupulously avoided looking at the Minister. It seemed they were quite content to let the man work out his frustrations on me. I couldn’t really blame them, his ire was legendary.

“And now,” Scrimgeour growled menacingly, “I have to face the bloody press with nothing to bloody well show for all our work except…floriography! Merlin’s balls!” With a final glower, he stormed out the door, the Aurors and bureaucrats hard on his heels. Mina paused long enough to give me a quick, friendly pat on the shoulder, before following in their wake. Soon only Percy and I remained.

He rolled up the parchment and waved the quill aside. I simply stood quietly, attempting to collect what remained of my frayed nerves. I was certain I’d just witnessed the end of my career, my livelihood, and quite possibly my marriage, all at once. Just fucking splendid. Little did I know that my day was about to become even worse.

“Mother’s invited you to dinner this Saturday. I know you won’t come, but I promised I’d extend the invitation and there it is.”

I just looked at Percy for a moment, unable to comprehend something as mundane as a dinner invitation given what I’d just undergone. Finally I dredged up a polite response, “T-thank you, Percy, that was most kind. Please tell your mother…well…”

“Yes, I know, you must regretfully decline. We’ll chalk it up to ill health, shall we?” Percy stood, tucking the rolled parchment under his arm. “She’ll understand, she always does. The invitation is extended to your wife as well, of course.”

“Of course,” I sighed as he brushed past me and I was left alone to contemplate my rather bleak future in relative peace.

****

A message from Severus was awaiting me when I returned home. It had arrived hours earlier…Severus was going to be furious. I rushed around like a madman collecting the spare wand and reading through the list of items he required wondering how I was going to collect it all and still make it to Spinner’s End quickly.

I nearly ran full force into Dora who was just coming in the door as I was leaving. “Oh, excuse me, my dear.”

She caught my arm and asked, “Where are you rushing off to? I was hoping we could have dinner together. The way things are now, we may not have another chance for weeks.”

“That sounds lovely, really, but I’m afraid I’ve some urgent business to attend to and…”

Dora gave me an odd look. “Urgent business? Since when does the Apparations Licensing Office have urgent business?”

“Ah,” I cursed myself silently for not discussing this with her sooner. She was going to be annoyed, and rightly so; but I simply didn’t have the time to allow her to vent her frustration at the moment. “I’m very sorry I didn’t mention this earlier, but you see I’ve been asked to assist with the investigation into the recent murders.”

“Asked? Asked by who?”

“Well, by the Minister, actually. It’s all rather complicated and I wish I had the time to fill you in completely, but as I say I am rather urgently needed. If you’re still up when I return home we’ll sit down and have a nice long talk, I promise you.”

“How could you keep something like this from me?” She gazed at me with big violet eyes, wide with hurt and frustration. “You did it on purpose, didn’t you?”

“Dora, this really isn’t the time.”

“But Remus…”

“I’m so terribly sorry that I neglected to inform you about this, but I can assure you it wasn’t in any way intentional. I’m also sorry that this isn’t a convenient time to bring you up to speed, but it truly isn’t and I really must go.” I moved her gently but firmly out of the way, and then added over my shoulder, “Oh and Molly’s invited you over to dinner Saturday night.” I Apparated away before she had time to reply.


	16. Chapter 16

I presented the vial in much the same manner I’d turned in my Arithmancy NEWTS, with a degree of smug self-satisfaction that would have done James Potter proud. “It’s a sample of the poison that killed Umbridge,” I proclaimed.

Severus reacted with all the enthusiasm I would’ve expected had Lord Whimsy just poo’ed on his carpet. Slowly and with what could only be described as a decided measure of concern, he asked, “How did you come by that, exactly?”

I blinked in surprise, then replied, “From Mina…I mean the Chief Necromancer, she discovered it and when I met her for lunch she…”

“What is our password?”

“I don’t…what?”

Severus tensed, and enunciating each word with great care, he repeated, “What is our password?”

“Oh, password, yes, it’s Stubby Boardman.”

He relaxed slightly. “I see. Do we have corroboration regarding where this was found. I need to know that the sample hasn’t been tampered with in any way, or purposefully left for us to discover in order to throw us off the killer’s true trail.”

“What sort of corroboration do you need, Severus?” I was honestly quite puzzled, why was he reacting as if Mina’s find were somehow suspect? “The Chief Necromancer discovered this in Umbridge’s flask and thought you’d be pleased. I mean I thought you’d be pleased as well, it’s the Torridus Potion that you were so intrigued by in its original form, isn’t that…well, isn’t that useful?”

“Yes,” the way he said that one word led me to believe he wasn’t entirely convinced of his answer. “If it is what it appears to be then it could be extremely useful.”

“I honestly don’t understand your reaction, Severus. This is a wonderful breakthrough, you must admit.” I almost voiced my next thought aloud, but caught myself just in time. I was beginning to wonder if some of his reaction weren’t tinged by just a hint of jealousy. He wanted to be the one to make all the grand discoveries, I was meant to be his faithful Watson, constantly following in his shadow and watching his every move with admiration.

If he seriously thought we were replaying our childhoods now with him cast in the role of Sirius Black, he was going to be bloody disappointed.

Without missing a beat he asked, “A flask, you said?”

“Yes, that’s what Mina told me.”

“I don’t recall Umbridge ever resorting to a flask during her time at Hogwarts, and Merlin knows she had ample cause to between Potter and the Weasley twins.”

“Well,” I sighed, setting the vial down where he could glare at it in peace, and made myself comfortable on the sofa, “she didn’t precisely leave the Ministry under the best of terms. I mean it was her life, wasn’t it? She defined herself by her service to the Minister, and to be unceremoniously sacked with no hope of further employment in her chosen field…it’s not exactly difficult to believe that she might turn to drink.”

“I suppose there might be something to that…”

“Of course there’s bloody well something to that, Severus just examine the damned vial and if you could perhaps manage something resembling a ‘Thank you very much, Lupin’, that would be lovely. Of course I won’t hold my breath.”

“I suppose it’s fortunate that I asked you to bring along the two Thurbridge texts, I’ll need them if I’m going to analyze this sample. And I’ll need the wand as well, thank you very much.”

I decided to interpret that final comment as something other than a sarcastic command, but simply handed him the wand. “I also took it upon myself to pay Dolores Umbridge a brief visit.”

He stopped fiddling with the vial long enough to stare at me with open astonishment. “You what?”

“I went to Hogwarts to speak with Umbridge’s portrait,” I clarified, wondering if his chamomile tea was as good as he claimed.

“I…see. And what did you discover?”

“That death really hasn’t changed her personality in the slightest, sadly.” I shrugged and stood, “Mind if I make myself some tea?” He shook his head abruptly and then gestured for me to continue. As I ambled back into the kitchen to fill the kettle I called out, “It was something of a wasted trip, I’m afraid. All she did was natter on about how inadequate her portrait is and row with Phinneas. I must say if there’s one thing Slytherins excel at it’s grating on others’ nerves.”

“I really couldn’t be any less interested in your personal observations at the moment,” he returned, his powerful baritone voice carrying easily from one room to another. “What did she say about the day of her death?”

“Nothing really beyond what we already knew. She claims she spent most of the day at home attending to ‘important correspondence’, then the meeting, then back home for dinner and straight to bed.” I leaned back against the counter as I cast a weak heating charm and hoped it wouldn’t set off any of the wards. When it didn’t, I continued, “And of course she completely denied that she as much as owned a flask, let alone used one.”

“And you didn’t believe her?”

“Of course not, Severus you knew her possibly better than I did, would you say that she was obsessed with appearances in life?”

Snape paused for several seconds, then admitted, “Yes, I think obsessed would be a fair description.”

“Well I can assure you that hasn’t changed with her death, she immediately accused me of creating the entire thing just to embarrass her. Because, of course, I have nothing better to do with my time than concoct lies with the express purpose of engaging in some vague, ill-defined revenge against Dolores Umbridge. Merlin, the sheer unmitigated gall of the woman.” I stalked back into the sitting room and took a seat, the tea was actually quite nice.

“If there’s one thing that Umbridge certainly had in abundance it was gall. However, if you’d bothered to ask me rather than simply buggering off to Hogwarts on a fool’s errand I would have recommended visiting Umbridge’s home instead.”

“Her home?” I was profoundly puzzled. “And what do you mean by ‘fool’s errand’?”

“We’ve just agreed that the likelihood that Umbridge would be forthcoming about anything as distasteful as a drinking problem, was slim to none. That said, had you mentioned your plan to me before putting it into action I would have advised you to speak to her House Elf instead.”

“Her House Elf? Jinx? Do you honestly think she’d reveal something like that to her servant?”

“Have you ever had a conversation with a House Elf?” My lack of response seemed confirmation enough, and he muttered, “Just as I suspected. You see if you had you’d know that there are no secrets from House Elves. Just one of many reasons why I’ve never owned one of the creatures, nor will one ever cross my threshold.” 

“But,” I countered after another sip of tea, “even Dobby couldn’t be entirely forthcoming with Harry, despite his desire to warn him about the mortal peril he was in second year. The enchantment that kept him in service to the Malfoys wouldn’t allow him to speak ill of the family.”

“Yes, but as soon as the House Elf is freed, as Dobby was, or the only owner of the home in which the Elf is employed passes on, that enchantment is broken. Jinx would be perfectly free to discuss any of the sordid details of Umbridge’s life. And with just a modicum of patience and the thoughtful application of an alcoholic beverage or two, you would’ve had everything we needed.” Severus allowed himself a grim smile. “But no, instead you chose to fritter away your time arguing with a portrait. I hope Minerva at least had the decency to offer you some tea for your trouble.”

“Actually, if you’re really interested, I had a lovely chat with Albus.”

That wiped the smirk rather effectively from his face. He glanced away abruptly and rather quietly said, “Don’t…”

“He asked about you, he’s been worried and…well, Minerva…”

“Hates me, yes, I’m well aware of that.” Snape snatched up the vial I’d given him and gazed at it solemnly, turning it over and over in his long, white fingers. “There was a reason Albus turned to me to assist him during his final confrontation with Voldemort. Minerva hadn’t the stomach for sacrifice, at least not where her precious Headmaster was concerned. Albus required complete loyalty, someone who could put the good of the entire wizarding world ahead of one man’s life. No matter how…precious that life might be. In a word, he required me. And Minerva has never quite managed to forgive me for that.” He put the vial back down but continued to stare glumly at it. “How is he?”

“As well as can be expected, I suppose, under the circumstances. We talked. He…he told me a few things I hadn’t been aware of previously.” I wasn’t quite sure how to approach the subject, and my nerves weren’t entirely recovered from my meeting with Scrimgeour. Perhaps it would be best just to drop the whole thing. “He said he was proud of me, can you imagine that? Me.”

“Well why not?” Snape’s black eyes bored into me, his lips curling into a sneer. “You were his favorite until Harry Potter came along, his bright, good natured, humble little pet. Never a misstep, never a harsh word or a raised voice. Just pleasant little Remus Lupin in his perfect fucking marriage, his oh so respectable Ministry position, surrounded by friends and well-wishers. I ask you again, why wouldn’t he be proud?”

I looked away abruptly, a perfect life? Oh if only he knew the truth, the whole sad, sorted truth, would he still envy me, I wondered. Perhaps he would, even my sorry excuse for a life must seem rather better than being locked away for the remainder of his life for a crime he hadn’t committed.

My hands were shaking and unconsciously I’d gone back to playing with the frayed edges of my robe. Normally I could have easily taken this typical churlishness from Snape, but I was rattled and unhappy and suddenly everything seemed so much more complicated and difficult than it should have been. What had happened to my simple, steady life? Why had I abandoned it to throw myself into an investigation for which I was so completely unprepared?

I simply didn’t want anyone to be angry with me, I never had, really, but even less so just then. Of course Severus wasn’t likely to respond to a polite request to stop being so testy, please, because my nerves weren’t quite up to it. Perhaps a change of topic was in order.

“I’ve written up notes regarding my interview with Umbridge if…if you’d like to see them.”

Snape swiped the notepad out of my hand without a word, and began leafing through the pages. He stopped dead on one page, stiffening immediately. “Lupin…these notes refer to a conversation you had with Luna Longbottom.”

“Oh.” How had I possibly forgotten to mention that unfortunate visit to Severus? “I…yes, before I was officially brought into the investigation, and before I’d even spoken to you I visited her in St. Mungo’s. I just thought she might…”

“Tell me just one thing,” he growled, holding up a single finger for emphasis, “have you spoken to any other material witnesses in this investigation without my knowledge? Perhaps you had a long chat with the killer you’d like to mention as well? I mean, while we’re on the subject.”

Oddly enough, I took his return to sarcastic barbs as a good sign that his anger was abating a bit. “I did, um, speak to Minerva.”

“Right. Minerva. This conversation, I presume, was in relation to the death of Professor Parkinson?”

“Just so, yes. I thought she might mention some detail to a friend that she wouldn’t necessarily consider sharing with the Aurors.”

“And did she?” His eyes were now perusing the notepad intently.

“Just some personal comments regarding Pansy’s habits of late. And she suggested that I talk to Rosmerta as well, Pansy had been spending a great deal of time at the Three Broomsticks since the end of her relationship with Ginny Weasley.”

“I see. I will assume that Ms. Weasley instigated this…disassociation?”

I smiled and replied, “I suppose you have been a bit out of the loop, haven’t you?”

He glanced up. “Yes, a bit.”

“Well yes, Ginny was under a great deal of pressure from Molly to end the relationship. Molly didn’t approve, you see.”

“Still had her heart set on referring to her daughter as Ginny Potter, mmm?”

“Something like that, I imagine.”

“One wonders how young Mr. Malfoy would respond to that.”

“I expect it would involve an Unforgiveable or two, myself.”

Severus actually chuckled at that. “I suspect you’re right. Very well, I’ll read over your interviews and compare them to the official reports. But, I’d like you to look over the files as well, I’d be especially interested in your reactions to the official questions and responses. If anything looks odd, unlikely, or in any way suspicious I want you to bring it to my attention.”

“Really?” I suddenly felt as if at long, long last I’d contributed something useful. “I mean, me?”

“Yes, Lupin, I freely admit that we each have our areas of expertise. Mine is obviously everything related to potions and the organization of evidence in a rational manner. Yours is a bit less obvious, I suppose, but perhaps equally valuable. You understand people, not the killer of course, but the victims and those close to them.”

“Severus I…I’d be delighted to look over the interviews.”

“Wonderful,” with that he stood, lifted a daunting stack of parchments and placed them, with a smirk, in my lap. “Enjoy.”

I quickly discovered my new task was only slightly less onerous and dull than plumbing the depths of floriography. None of the Aurors had actually taken the time to really talk to the families and friends of the victims. Instead they’d asked a series of repetitive questions completely lacking in either imagination or empathy. It was no wonder they were getting nowhere.

An hour or so was all I could manage without pausing to refresh my tea and muse aloud, “I wonder what Dora was cooking up. She wanted us to dine together tonight. I think she was rather hurt when I rushed out the door.”

Severus closed his eyes, breathed deeply for a few seconds, then finally replied, “I’m not sure where you got the deluded and wholly erroneous notion that you and I were friends, but please allow me to disabuse you of it. Even were we bosom chums, perhaps after I received a sharp blow to the head, let us say; I can assure you that listening to tales of your connubial bliss should never be something I would willingly volunteer for.”

“I’m very sorry, Severus. You’re right, I do sometimes forget that we aren’t friends. Thankfully you never hesitate to set me straight on the matter.”

Several long hours and a pair of aching eyes later, I didn’t feel I was making terribly much progress on the witness interviews. In fact I found myself thinking back rather fondly on the latest memo from my employer. Or listening to Lucinda and Thaxter hash out the latest professional Quidditch match. All those things that had once seemed painfully mindless now struck me as downright scintillating by comparison.

“I’m tired,” I sighed, propping my head on one fist and gazing out at the murky twilight. “I had a chat with Scrimgeour today.”

Severus studiously ignored what was beginning to become a rather absurd stream of non sequiturs.

“I think I’m going to lose my job, but I just can’t seem to care.”

Snape’s only response was the steady scratching of his green quill.

“Which is odd, because for so many years I wished for nothing more than a simple, steady, reliable source of income. I can’t imagine who else would employ me. I mean it’s not as if I have a plethora of experience, and then, of course, as soon as they realize I’m a werewolf…Well, it’s all ‘Thanks so much, we’ve nothing at present.’ If I lose my position Dora’s going to be furious with me. She seems to think that every time I do something careless it’s somehow meant to punish her.” I plucked at the parchments I was supposed to be reading. “She had an affair with Charlie Weasley, you know.”

Snape’s quill abruptly stopped.

“About seven months ago. I caught the two of them in the act, right on my own bed. Not that I blame her, mind you, I mean I’m...and he’s so...so bloody young. I’ve no idea why I’m telling you this, I know I shouldn’t. We aren’t friends, I know that, I just can’t seem to stop myself.”

Finally Severus peered up at me and barked, “Please have the common decency to lose what remains of your mind on your own time. We have work to do.”

I watched him turn back to his writing and I wanted to do as he asked, I really did. Instead I found myself quite inexplicably crying. “I’m sorry, this is...I don’t know why I....” Wiping the tears away as quickly as I could, I found myself asking, “Why don’t you tell me I’m making an ass of myself? Why don’t you tell me to get out? Mock me...humiliate me, go on, I know you’re dying to.”

His mouth set in a grim line and he turned back to his writing. 

“Why don’t....why don’t you sniff my hair any more?”

Severus carefully lowered his quill, closed his eyes, then rubbed his temples with slow deliberation. “What?”

“You said it smelled nice, remember?”

The former Potions Master stared at me as if I’d grown a second head. “Are you saying you want me to sniff your hair? Because you seemed to find it bloody disconcerting earlier.”

I’m not sure who was more perplexed by my reaction. “I did...I do, but it was also...”

“Yes?”

“Well. Flattering...I suppose.”

He seemed to consider what I’d said for several moments, then remarked, “There have been several studies that point to a detrimental effect on higher cognitive functions after long term exposure to improper levels of aconite. What say we agree that the Ministry brewers are clearly substandard and wouldn’t know how to brew a proper Wolfsbane if their collective lives depended upon it, and leave it at that, shall we?”

I couldn’t contain a rather watery chuckle, “Yes. I...I think I can agree to that.”

“Brainless twits, I can’t imagine how they’ve managed to avoid poisoning half the lycanthrope population of the British Isles by this point.” Standing abruptly, he moved over to one of the bookshelves, and pulled out several of the boy detective novels I’d seen earlier. From behind them he withdrew a bottle of what looked suspiciously like a rather fine vintage of fire whiskey. Without saying a word, he uncorked it and handed it to me.

I checked the label to confirm my suspicion, yes indeed, a Glennfindel and a nice one at that. “Where did you…?”

“Johnstone occasionally proves useful. And if there’s one area in which he can claim anything resembling expertise, it’s liquor.”

Not having a glass handy, I took a long pull from the bottle and let the soothing warm of the whiskey work its way down my throat and into my muscles and bones. When he didn’t reach for it immediately, I took another. Oh yes, it was a very fine year indeed. “You’d better take this away from me,” I sighed, “or I might just finish the entire thing myself tonight.”

He shrugged and resumed his seat. 

“At least drink a bit of it yourself, if for no other reason than to alleviate my guilt for cheating you out of enjoying this marvelous bottle of whiskey.” When he paused, I sighed and drawled, “You do realize that lycanthropy is only communicable via bite during the full moon, yes?”

Frowning, Snape held out one long arm to reclaim the bottle and took a long drink before passing it back. “There, satisfied?”

“Yes, quite.” I’d always been a complete lightweight when it came to hard liquor, but it was really rather pathetic that I was already feeling a little buzzed. Sadly, I knew this meant that I was quite likely to start babbling even more egregiously than before. Severus might well come to regret this little kindness of his before the hour was out. “You know that Scrimgeour will only make your efforts to solve this case known to the public if he needs a scapegoat for Ministry failures, don’t you?”

“I assure you I haven’t grown feeble-minded in the past few weeks, lack of serious progress notwithstanding.”

“If you do manage to discover the killer’s identity and bring this whole mess to an end, he’ll never admit your role in all of this.”

“And your point would be?” Severus grunted, reclaiming the bottle again.

“I suppose I’m wondering what you hope to gain from this.”

“Perhaps I was just bored.”

“Mmm-hmm.” I reached for the bottle.

“Or perhaps I was simply desperate for your company.” The words didn’t come out quite as sarcastically as either of us were expecting, particularly Severus, who snatched back the bottle for an even longer draw.

“Clearly I should get you pissed more often.”

“I must admit you’ve rather surprised me.”

“Oh?” I asked, taking the bottle once more.

“Yes, I’d had you pegged as a maudlin drunk.”

“Oddly enough, that was Sirius. He was always the first to descend into the sloppy ‘I love you’ phase. It was utterly pathetic.”

“…in a life filled with a multitude of pathetic qualities.”

“Now Severus, what was all that about not speaking ill of the dead?”

“If you’ll recall I did make certain specific exceptions.” He gave the bottle a speculative look. “I’m afraid we’re going to need to move onto a slightly less inspired vintage.”

“Shame that, but I honestly don’t think I’m in any condition to complain at the moment.”

“Excellent.” He made his way unsteadily to the bookcase and withdrew another half-filled bottle, handing it to me on his return.

“Ta,” I returned jovially, “oh, that’s lovely.”

“Actually it’s quite dreadful when one isn’t already arseholed.”

“Jamie let you down on that one, ‘ey?”

Snape sniffed and gestured for the whiskey. “Solstice gift from his predecessor. A man of no taste or brains and very little common sense but, and I say this in complete honesty, a body that would make a Veela weep.”

I doubled over laughing, “Seriously?”

“Oh I assure you I’m not exaggerating in the slightest. He was an absolute menace as a security guard. Women were constantly hanging about the place chatting him up, and there were numerous Muggle automobile accidents. Still, for all of that, he was delightfully…scenic. Far more interesting than watching the traffic roll by day after endless day.”

“Well Jamie’s not exactly hard on the eyes.”

“D’you reckon’?” Severus actually seemed to be seriously pondering the notion for the very first time. “Well, I s’pose there is some aesthetic value there, but comparatively speaking I’m afraid he can’t hold a candle to Benjamin.”

“That was his name? Benjamin? Really?”

“Ooooh yes. He was a polite little thing as well, you two would’ve gotten on famously.”

“I’m not always polite, you know.” I’m not sure why being considered polite rankled me at that moment, but it did. “I’ve been rude…once or twice.”

“I suppose if we count your juvenile delinquency…”

“My juvenile delinquency? Hmm, I do seem to recall that you were somewhat less than polite to me on a few occasions as well.”

“I vaguely remember certain harsh words being exchanged.”

“Not to mention,” I returned with a grin, “quite a few spells, hexes, and the occasional curse or two.”

“I was merely giving as good as I got.”

“And you never instigated a thing.”

Snape smiled smugly. “I’m delighted that we’re in complete agreement on that count.”

“You know, there’s something I’ve always wanted to ask you. I mean we’ve all wondered for years but I suppose I’ve never quite had the courage to voice it aloud.”

“If it has anything to do with how Swelling Solution happened to replace the Gryffindors’ shampoo the night before the Mid-Winter ball, I’m afraid I can’t help you.”

“Why on earth do you think Sirius took such glee in tormenting you for the remainder of our fourth year?”

“Sheer bloody-minded viciousness was my working hypothesis.”

“Ah, well, you’d given him ample incentive. You do realize he’d had a date with Tabitha Trueweather that night.”

“My heart bleeds for him.”

“Yes, I expected it might.” I was delightfully buzzed and more relaxed than I’d been in ages. It was odd to feel so at ease with someone I’d always considered to be, if not an enemy, then the next best thing to one. And yet, here we were chatting about our school days over a few whiskeys like a couple of chums. I suppose it was this combination that gave me the courage to actually blurt out, “So why did you leave the Death Eaters, Severus?”

He looked at me blearily. “What?”

“We all had our theories, of course, and Albus would never come right out and say…”

“Theories? Do you actually mean to tell me that you and your little friends could find nothing better to discuss in your free time than my motivations for leaving the Death Eaters?”

I shrugged and glanced away somewhat guiltily. “It came up once or twice.”

“And? What was your favorite of the lot, hmm?”

“Well...we’d, I mean...”

“What?”

“Albus implied...Well he never actually outright said as much but, it was fairly obvious.”

“What? What was fairly obvious?”

“Your...your reason for abandoning the Dark Lord.”

He blinked but remained otherwise motionless. “Do go on.”

“He indicated that...well, that it was love.”

“Did he?” Severus voice seemed very far away all of a sudden.

“Y-yes. And while he never actually mentioned any names...well, it seemed rather obvious who he was referring to.”

“Oh?” His dark eyes never left mine and I could practically feel the tension emanating from him all the way across the room. “And who was that?”

“Well, Lily, of course.”

There was a momentary pause, a silence that hung heavy and deep between us. I wasn’t entirely sure what to expect, whether he would be furious that Dumbledore had betrayed his secret to me, or relieved that at last someone else knew, somehow who wouldn’t hold it against him, nor think any less of him for it. What happened next, however, had never entered my imagination. It started slowly as a twitch in his bony shoulders, and then what looked rather like some sort of spasm or cough, but what was revealed to be a grinding sound vaguely resembling a laugh. I flinched, both surprised and perhaps a little frightened. Finally his head flew back and his eyes shut as he began to laugh in earnest. His face was flushed and before long I even caught a glimpse of tears in the corners of his eyes. Before long he was clutching his sides, so far gone in his mirth that he could barely breathe. I just stared at him in complete astonishment.

“You are,” he managed to gasp at last, “the greatest idiot it has ever been my misfortune to meet, Remus Lupin. Oh I must write this down, I shouldn’t want to forget it after I sober up.”

“I don’t see what’s so funny, I mean it’s natural that we’d think…”

“That you’d think I fancied Lily Evans simply because she occasionally treated me with something resembling human decency?”

Admittedly I wasn’t at my best, mentally speaking, at that moment but even so I made a valiant effort. “Well you were both in Slug Club and…well she mentioned to me on a few occasions that you were tutoring her in Potions.”

“Typical. I told the little swot to keep that bit quiet.” He sighed as if profoundly put upon. 

“So it’s true?”

“Of course it’s bloody well true, you don’t seriously think she could’ve become Slughorn’s little pet without my help, do you?”

“Right then.” I gave the empty bottles a morose look. “Why did you help her?”

“Because I’m a Slytherin.”

“Oh, well that explains everything.”

“Damned right it does.” It took him a second or two to process the sarcasm, then he growled, “Git. I’ll try to explain this as simply as possible in deference to your inebriated state. It was obvious to everyone that James Potter was dotty about her, so it was in my best interest to forge an alliance, if you will.”

“I don’t recall it helping you all too often. I mean she did stand up for you that one…” I wondered if I’d said too much, given Snape’s reaction to Harry discovering that particular memory, I shouldn’t be at all surprised if this was enough to inspire him to toss me out on my ear. “I meant to say I don’t recall you allowing anyone to stand up for you.”

“Too right. I didn’t need her or anyone else to fight my battles for me, not against you lot.”

“Oh no, you did splendidly on your own.”

“You know,” Snape said with just the hint of a smirk on his face, “as we’re exchanging truths tonight there’s something I’ve always been a bit curious about, myself.”

“What’s that?” It slipped out before I’d fully registered the question. Of course by the time I did it was much too late.

“Just how on earth did that ridiculous metamorphmagus strong arm you into marrying her in the first place?” When I just stared at him in utter shock, he continued, “It was obvious to everyone that she was pursuing you with what can only be described as a deplorable degree of ardor and a complete lack of subtlety or good sense. Did you know her patronus actually took on the shape of a wolf for several months when you were, I assume, holding her at a very sensible arm’s length?” He actually smiled quite nastily before asking, “So did she just wear you down or was it a combination of pity and Molly Weasley’s wheedling?”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Oh I think I do. In fact, had I any galleons to my name I’d be willing to wager several that you put her off for quite some time out of ‘earnest’ concern for her well being. Let me guess, you said something about being too poverty stricken, elderly and infirm to possibly be worthy of her love.”

“I…not exactly that, no,” I muttered, blushing furiously.

“But I’m close, aren’t I? And she undoubtedly brushed all your concerns aside, blithely insisting that she truly loved you and that would overcome everything. Of course she might have believed it at the time, and perhaps you were even willing to suspend your disbelief, that is until you came home to discover her in that Weasley boy’s arms. Then it all came rushing back to you, every doubt, every concern, all the differences that had always existed between you. And of course, true to form, you blamed yourself for all of them, blamed your curse and your poverty and even the fact that you’d had the hideous luck to be born thirteen years too early to make her a reasonably good match.” He paused to size up my reaction, and actually seemed a bit dismayed, realizing he’d gone much too far. I looked away from him, teary-eyed and hideously ashamed, I barely heard his next words. “You deserve better than a flighty, thoughtless child, Lupin, but you’ll never receive it until you believe it as well.”

Setting the two whiskey bottles upright on the table, Severus stood and handed me his wand. “I’m afraid you’ll have to forgive me, Lupin, at least now you understand why I rarely drink with others.” I accepted the wand, but remained stonily silent. “You’re sleeping here tonight, I won’t have you splinched from here to London.”

“I’m all right.”

He gave me a stern look. “You work for the Apparations Licensing Department, you really should know better. Don’t force me to confiscate your wand.”

I burst into a fit of watery giggles at the thought of Snape being forced to confiscate my wand, and some tiny inner demon wondered just how he’d go about doing it. Maybe we’d tussle. For some reason that sounded strangely, and quite unexpectedly appealing at the moment, though I couldn’t quite put my finger on just why.

“What?” Severus leaned closer, nearly falling out of his chair. “What did you say?”

“I said, ‘Yes, Severus’, whatever you say.”

“Right. Good. Well, if you think you can manage the stairs you can have whichever bed you like. I’d recommend a quick ‘Scourgify’ though, I’m not much of a housekeeper.” He frowned and shook his head. “On second thought, I wouldn’t trust you not to hex yourself into next week in this state. Just don’t break your neck on the stairs, because I’ll be damned if I’m explaining how that came to pass to Shacklebolt. He gives me odd enough looks most days as it is.”

I stood up, a bit wobbly, but I’d been far worse after a night out with the Marauders. I was still reasonably convinced I could Apparate home but I was equally certain Severus wouldn’t let me anywhere near the door, and I was ridiculously tired. The secret latch on the bookcase nearly defeated me, but the third time was indeed the charm. I turned back to ask Severus, “So, which side of the bed do you prefer?”

He blinked up at me. “What?”

“I can sleep on either, I just didn’t want to put you out.”

Snape took several long seconds to process my statement, finally realization dawned like the sun over the horizon. Oddly enough, he actually blushed. “Oh. No. I’ll sleep down here. I don’t…I don’t like to sleep…up there.” The way he looked at the staircase made it seem a little forbidding.

Still, the call of a soft bed was like a siren’s song and I was willing to face down a Ridgeback to sleep in one if it came to it. “Are you sure?”

“Yes.” His eyes were dark and haunted, and his voice soft in the still room. “Quite sure.

“Good night then, Severus.”

“Good night.”


	17. Chapter 17

A loud, muffled crash woke me with a start into a new universe of pain. Not, of course, that this was an unheard of experience for me, but when one lives with chronic pain one begins to qualify the sensations. There are levels, you see, and each one requires a vastly different response. The agony of awakening after a full moon was a known quantity. I prepared days in advance, was certain not to stray much farther than my kitchen if it could be avoided, and took a lovely little pain potion to take the edge off.

A hangover, however, had become something of a mystery to me. 

Dora and I had visited our share of pubs at the beginning of our relationship. The exuberance of post-War London had been infectious, sweeping us all along in its celebratory wake. Certainly we’d been only too happy to accept round after round toasting the Order of the Phoenix and, of course, fallen friends.

But even then we’d been sensible about it and always had a nice sobering potion readily at hand once we’d stumbled in the door. The morning after the night before became a mild annoyance, easily banished. It had been years since I’d accepted any invitations to join either Dora or anyone else for a night at the pub, and I was clearly out of practice.

I groaned softly and dared to open one eye. Everything was a bit blurry and dim but it was obvious from the outset that I wasn’t sleeping in my own bed. In fact, I wasn’t in my own room, nor my own home.

‘Think, Lupin.’ My brain was sluggish and protested in no uncertain terms being asked to do anything at all, let alone reach any real conclusions about my current predicament. ‘What the hell happened last night?’

The other eye followed the first and I made out a small bedside stand with a little wind up clock. The clock claimed that it was nine a.m., which seemed a reasonable enough hour of the morning. Or it is when one isn’t wishing quite avidly for death’s sweet release.

Lifting my head proved a wretched idea, and it took me several long minutes of lying very still, eyes shut and hands clutching the edges of the narrow mattress, before I could venture to try again. In the meantime there was another crash and what sounded like raised voices. Curiosity won out over common sense and I rolled over onto my side and prepared to attempt to stand.

When my head failed to tumble off my shoulders, and my stomach seemed to be staying put, I sat up with a heartfelt moan. Looking around in earnest now, I quickly realized where I was. I’d been sleeping in Severus Snape’s childhood bedroom.

The room itself was fairly unremarkable, its sloped ceiling showing it to be directly below the roof of the house itself. The bed was narrow, but long, with loud unpleasant springs rather than the feathers I’d grown used to over the years. A chest of drawers dominated one of the walls, it was chipped and several of the handles seemed on the verge of falling off.

The walls held onto the remnants of some shabby wallpaper whose pattern was so faded I could not make it out. There wasn’t any artwork or the sorts of sporting posters one might expect to find in a teenaged boy’s room. No photographs of family or friends adorned any surface in the room. There was, however, a crucifix hanging directly across from the window. It was a simple wooden thing, but it struck me as oddly anachronistic. When you’d spent your life among wizards you simply took certain things for granted, and a complete lack of religious beliefs was one of those givens.

The floor was bare hardwood and covered in a fine layer of dust. So, as it happened, was the bed. Apparently I’d failed to notice that the previous evening. When I was reasonably sure I wouldn’t accidentally hex myself, I’d be sure to clean myself up properly. 

There was a box in the corner atop which sat a record player, the likes of which I hadn’t seen in decades. As I recalled Lily had once had one almost identical to it. Aside from that, however, the room seemed to be quite empty. I suppose I could’ve ventured into the room’s closet if I’d been feeling at all human, certainly it was a once in a lifetime chance to gain a little more insight into Severus. However, at the moment, there was a more pressing matter. Perhaps I should say two more pressing matters, one being my overburdened bladder and the other those odd voices quite clearly coming from downstairs.

Who was Severus speaking to at this hour? Realization struck me a little belatedly, Scrimgeour, it had to be. I felt my chest clench with dread. If he were here there could be only one explanation, and it did not bode well for Snape.

I did my best to make it to the door without stepping on every creaking, groaning floorboard between it and the bed. Alas, I wasn’t quite sure which floorboards were best avoided, and my terror of being discovered was such that I tread far more slowly and carefully than I would’ve liked. I silently thanked the Fates that I had at least had sufficient presence of mind to remove my shoes before falling unconscious.

I’d like to say that my concern for what was happening downstairs had completely overtaken my own physical needs, but that simply wasn’t the case. I crept out into the hall between Severus’ bedroom and what I speculated was his parents’ former room. There was a washroom near the stairs and I ducked in quickly, attempting to relieve myself as quickly and quietly as possible. I felt a bit like I was 13 again and sneaking with Sirius into the Prefects’ bathroom. Of course I’d have a great deal more to lose than a few House Points if I got caught this time.

Leaning out of the bathroom, I strained to hear what was happening below. That was definitely the Minister’s voice, angry, threatening, all bluster and outrage, undoubtedly blaming Severus for the killer’s continued elusiveness. What I didn’t hear were Snape’s replies. Was he even bothering to assuage the man’s anger? Or had he aimed several barbed phrases a little too cleverly and earned himself another beating?

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” I hissed under my breath, taking one more daring step to the top of the stairs. I lowered myself to a crouch, and leaned forward to listen as intently as I could. I still couldn’t quite make out the words, but I was astonished to hear what I could plainly identify as Jamie’s voice. High-pitched, at times conciliatory and at others pleading, yes it was definitely Jamie.

What was he doing? Was he actually intervening on Snape’s behalf? And if so, why now?

There was another crash, another indecipherable bellow, more words I could not quite make out and finally what sounded suspiciously like the slamming of the front door. And then all was silence. It relieved both my head and my heart, and I ventured downstairs at last.

I did pause long enough to peer through the hole in the secret door. The room was in complete disarray, cauldrons and beakers strewn about the floor, their contents seeping relentlessly into the carpet. Parchments had been plucked from the walls and shredded with decided relish. Oh Scrimgeour had enjoyed himself immensely, no doubt about it.

Releasing the catch I stumbled into the sitting room, immediately stepping on a glass vial that nearly sent me on my ass. “Severus?” When I didn’t see him immediately, I felt a moment’s panic. “Severus!”

“There’s nothing wrong with my hearing, I assure you,” he returned, stalking out of the kitchen with a white dishtowel pressed to his forehead. When I made a move towards him he waved me away irritably. “I’m fine, it’s nothing.”

Jamie trailed along in his wake. “It’s just a small lump, a little ice on it and he’ll be all right.”

“You stopped him…Scrimgeour I mean, you stopped him didn’t you, Jamie?”

The young Auror smiled shyly and shrugged. “I s’pose selling cauldrons isn’t the end of the world, ‘ey Mr. Lupin?”

I returned his smile and said, “It’s Remus, Jamie. And the way things are going we may both be selling second-hand cauldrons before the week is out. But you’re right there are worse things, much worse. You’re a brave lad.”

“He’s an idiot,” Severus snapped and then gestured to the floor. “I don’t suppose either of you could possibly be troubled to cast a ‘Scourgify’ before the carpet’s completely ruined.”

With a guilty look, Johnstone set about doing just that. “Severus, what did he want?” I asked.

“What he always wants, something I cannot give him.” He looked about the room with a combination of dismay and frustration. “I almost had the Torridus formula, Lupin. I was so bloody close. But he storms in here and ruins all my work in a fit of temper. And why? Because he’s convinced himself that I’m wasting his time…making him look bad in front of the voters. He doesn’t give a damn about solving this case, all he cares about is being re-elected.”

“Is everything ruined? Is all the work undone?” I cast about helplessly, then began plucking up every stray scrap of parchment I could reach. My head protested immediately and I groaned aloud.

Severus eyed me severely for a moment, then said, “Sit down before you fall over.” He then walked back into the kitchen leaving me to do as I was told and wonder what in the bloody hell we were going to do next.

Jamie continued to cast cleaning spells and generally tidy up. “So…you stayed the night then.”

I gave him a sidelong look. “We had a few drinks. Severus very wisely forbid me to Apparate while under the influence.”

“’Course he did.” How Johnstone managed a world of implications in those three words, I would never know.

Snape returned before I could dredge up a response from my rather murky brain. He thrust a glass in front of my nose and commanded, “Drink this.”

Exhausted and hungover, I might have been, but I had not taken complete leave of my senses. “What is it?”

“It’ll clear your head.”

I continued to eye it suspiciously. “If it wouldn’t be too much trouble, Severus, our password, please.”

There was more than a hint of admiration in his black eyes as he replied too softly for Johnstone to hear, “Perhaps you’re not completely hopeless after all, Lupin. It is Stubby Boardman, now drink this before it loses its potency and I’m forced to listen to your moaning all day.”

I did as I was told and watched the two of them continue to put the room to rights. All things considered the potion wasn’t too dreadful, at least when compared to Wolfsbane. Not that I would want to imbibe it on a regular basis, of course.

“Where do you want these cauldrons, Mr. Snape?”

“In the shed, Johnstone, and be certain that they’re clean when you put them there. Completely clean, mind.”

“Yessir!” He gave Severus a jaunty mock salute and collected the small cauldrons, then levitated them down the hall.

“He’s a moron,” Snape mused softly, “but a useful one for all that.”

“I’m sorry, Severus.” I set the glass down and looked up at him seriously. “I should’ve come down sooner and intervened myself. The Minister might’ve killed you.”

“Not bloody likely. Your presence would have made the situation a great deal more precarious than it already was. You did the right thing, Lupin.”

“Did I? Did I really, Severus?” I leaned both elbows on my knees, and then put my head in my hands. “I feel like such a burden to you.”

"There are many kinds of burdens in this world, Lupin, not all of them have negative connotations. For example, I certainly saw brewing Wolfsbane and covering your classes for you as a burden while you were at Hogwarts."

"Yes, you made that rather clear at the time."

"However, I don't regret having taken on that burden, nor did I hesitate to do so when Albus made the request. I could see that it was necessary and it gave me a chance to both refine my own understanding of that potion as well as to teach a subject that interests me, and for which I've always felt I had something of a...flair, if you will."

"That's certainly one word for it." I leaned in a bit more closely, giving him a puzzled look. "I'm still not entirely following you, though."

"Burdens are not, in essence, negative things. Every parent who has ever produced a child has accepted a burden in some sense. One cannot live life entirely free of burdens, nor should one try as they are often highly instructive. A Muggle philosopher once commented that an unexamined life is not worth living, I should add to that an unburdened life is equally meaningless."

I took a moment to digest that, I'd spent most of my life seeing myself as a useless weight, dragging down anyone foolish enough to take pity on me or care for me. But I had to admit that while I had trouble recognizing that anyone might accept me, failings and all, I wouldn't hesitate to take on anyone else in a similar predicament. Even if it meant privation, discomfort, or worse. And yet I couldn't imagine anyone feeling that way about me.

Of course Dora's actions had further convinced me that I was right to think so. Still, if what Severus was saying was true...well, I began to wonder if I might not have been using this as an excuse for the greater part of my life. A way to keep others at a distance and protect myself from further disappointment. Perhaps there were others out there who could accept the burden of my lycanthropy, if not with open arms, then at least without regret.

At last I said, "I suppose I'd never really thought about it that way, Severus."

"That doesn't surprise me. For all that you desire love and friendship in your life you're still absurdly intent on keeping those around you at a safe distance."

I raised an eyebrow and asked, "Surely you're not going to lecture me about keeping others at a distance. I mean really, Severus."

"At least I was doing so out of necessity as much as any natural inclination of mine. Lupin, allow me to make something rather more clear to you than it appears to be. A great deal of what you saw me do and heard me say while at Hogwarts was necessitated by the incredibly complex and frankly, overwrought machinations of Albus and myself. We created a narrative, if you will, that took on a life of its own. It was necessary, without it I could never have played the game that I did, and  
I certainly couldn't have hoped to trick Voldemort unless I was half convinced of the reality of it myself. You extrapolated what you wished from the evidence you were presented with, Severus Snape vindictive, hateful git and traitor...fair enough. It might have behooved you, however, to look a little deeper and wonder if, perhaps, there might be something more to me than that." He shrugged indifferently and glanced out the window. "Now, of course, when the game is finished, I'm left with the choice of continuing to play the hateful git or to attempt to discover who I might truly have been had I not been Dumbledore's lackey. I'll admit that the role is far more comforting, and a great deal of the unpleasantness isn't feigned, but it can be rather...tiresome."

"So your point would be that it's difficult for you to establish relationships with others when you're not even entirely certain who you are. And yet that's somehow more honorable than my honest fear that I might hurt or even kill those around me some moonlit night? Bugger that." I stood up and paced the room restlessly, my hands balling into unconscious fists. "You don't...you don't know what it is to be afraid every single month, to wonder if the potion will work again, if I've somehow built up a resistance. It's been known to happen, you know, long-term use is still being studied. If I hurt someone...or Fates forgive me, killed someone, I couldn't...I couldn't go on. When I think back now on that night fifth year when I almost...when you almost..."

"Nothing happened," he returned shortly, looking down at his hands resting on the table. "I'm here, you're here, and that idiot Potter earned himself a life debt."

"But the sheer stupidity of it, of what might have happened, it keeps me awake some nights. I still can't quite believe that Sirius could do something so, so..."

"Thoughtless? Dangerous? Assinine? Blindly, bloody ignorant? Oh my dear Lupin, you always have been more than a little naive but surely even you could see that the man's life was one blatantly obvious act of jack-assery after another. I had hoped that Azkaban would serve as instructive to him, that it might at least encourage his maturation, but that clearly wasn't to be. He escaped the place the same brainless teenaged git he went in. The prison seemed to have entombed him in an emotional and psychological limbo."

I shook my head and walked over to the fireplace, gazing at the small knickknacks that decorated it. Fingering a little pewter figure of a cat I said, "You're wrong about that, he had changed, he simply hadn't had to exercise self control in so many years. They do all of your thinking for you in institutions like that, they make your decisions, you just...exist. And let's not forget that he spent most of his time isolated from others, and under the constant pall of Dementors. It didn't help that he exchanged one form of imprisonment for another. Keeping him locked up at Grimmauld Place was one of Albus' worst mistakes."

"Don't blame Dumbledore for Black's failings and," he held up a hand speaking quickly again to cut me off, "don't blame me either. I gave back as good as I got, no more, no less. Why I should have to be pleasant to a man whose entire rationalization for despising me boiled down to 'because I exist', is quite beyond me I'm afraid. The bastard should have simply worked out his difficulties with Regulus in a sane way rather than taking them out on me." With an annoyed sigh, he added, "Have you noticed that every conversation we've had lately has turned into the verbal equivalent of leafing through an old Hogwart's yearbook? I feel a little like we're trapped in a pensieve rehashing one miserable memory after another. We need to focus, Lupin, Scrimgeour's made it clear that if we bollocks this investigation up for him both our heads will roll. Yours figuratively, but I shouldn't be too surprised if he was quite literal about mine."

“What’s our next step then?”

Severus sighed and sat down across from me. “First, I’d like you to obtain what details you can regarding Umbridge’s final meeting with the Daughters of Hecate. I’d be particularly interested in whether or not any new members had been accepted recently.”

I groped about for a few seconds for my notepad and pencil. Not finding them I reluctantly used the back of a scrap of parchment I’d collected. Fortunately Severus didn’t own a cat whose favorite pastime was chewing quills to useless shreds, so there were a plethora of writing instruments easily at hand. I hastily noted his request and nodded for him to continue.

“There are also some ingredients I’ll require.” Snape handed me a short list of herbs from one of the pockets of his trousers.

I glanced at it and asked, “Sopophorous beans?”

“I suspect they were added to the Torridus potion to retard its effect. The fact that Umbridge could sleep through her death would support my supposition.”

“So you’re going to try to recreate it again?”

“We’ve had a setback, Lupin, but I’m far from ready to admit defeat.” He paused as if trying to gauge my reaction to his next words. “There is one other action I believe we should take…but I suspect you’re going to be…difficult.”

I sat up a bit straighter, the potion he’d given me had done its work well and my head had cleared considerably. “Perhaps you’d better tell me what you have in mind.”

“We’ve exhausted what little evidence the killer has left us and we’re really nowhere near any serious conclusions. There are simply too few data points, and with only three deaths…” He shrugged and gazed off into the darkened hallway. “We’re going to need to try something a bit more drastic. Without a clear idea of what it is about the victims that is drawing the killer’s attention, there seems only one serious option remaining. We present the murderer with a victim of our choosing. Namely, myself.”

“Wait, I don’t...Severus, what are you suggesting?”

He sighed, my stupidity clearly trying his patience. “I’m suggesting the only viable solution to our current situation. We agree that we can’t allow this to go on indefinitely, lives continue to be lost.”

“But why you? Couldn’t it just as easily be me?”

“Lupin, take a moment and try to use the considerable intelligence I know you possess.” He paused and rolled his eyes as I blushed slightly. “I worked in Hogwarts, you twit, of course I perused your records. And before you attribute it to a sign of my undying love for you, do bear in mind that prior to Mr. Potter’s arrival, life at Hogwarts could be quite dull. That, however, is entirely beside the point. How difficult would it be for someone to poison you?”

I opened my mouth, paused, then shut it again. He was right, my lycanthropic nature made me ridiculously susceptible to silver, even in relatively insignificant amounts.

“You’re a viable target with a known weakness who would present precisely zero difficulty. Our killer simply wouldn’t find you interesting in the slightest. This person requires a challenge, something worthy of their abilities. Between the guards, my own not inconsiderable abilities with and knowledge of potions, and my...history with the Order, I believe I not only fit the victim profile, I exceed it. In short I am the ultimate target. And just to be certain that whoever this is finds me impossible to resist, I’ll throw down a verbal gauntlet of sorts.”

“How do you mean to do that?”

“You’re going to get me an interview with the Daily Prophet, Lupin.”

****

Rita sat down, smoothed out the non-existent wrinkles in her plum-colored skirt and waved her Dicta-Quill forward. It obediently hovered just over her left shoulder scribbling away before so much as a word had been uttered. She assumed what I believe she thought was a winning smile and leaned slightly forward. That maneuver may have worked on countless men in the past, but her cleavage was hideously inadequate to the task, at least where Severus Snape was concerned.

He seemed more annoyed by how ridiculously obvious she was being, than her assumption that she possessed anything anatomically that might even remotely interest him. His black eyes slid over to me and then rolled dramatically. I barely stifled a snicker.

“So...Mr. Snape. May I call you Severus?”

“Certainly not.”

“Mr. Snape then.” She really was doing her level best to be ingratiating. “As an expert on potions, and a veteran of the Second War, my readers would be fascinated to know your take on these recent murders. Do you believe that one of your former allies could be the Pitiless Potions Poisoner?”

“You’re not seriously calling him that are you?” Severus groaned and shook his head. “Never mind. Suffice to say that I don’t personally believe that this poisoner, whomever they might be, was a direct participant in the Second War at all.”

“Why target those who actually took part in it, then?” Rita queried, proving that beneath that mop of blonde curls a fully functional brain actually did exist.

“My best guess would be jealousy, this person clearly wished to participate but simply didn’t have the courage or talent to be engaged by one side or the other. They undoubtedly sat out the events, possibly too frightened to act, and this is their means of lashing out at those who made them feel so utterly and completely inferior.” Severus leaned back and smiled, an expression of such complete superiority and contempt that I only hoped Skeeter’s photographer could capture it in all its glory. He certainly made the attempt. “Let’s examine the crimes themselves, shall we? Anyone with even an OWL in potions, access to a decent library, and the most mundane of imaginations could have dreamed up this scheme. The murders are only notable in their novelty, certainly there’s a sort of base sadism to them, but the murderer kills antiseptically, from a distance. It’s the sort of thing one would expect from someone too incompetent to trust their own skills with wand or blade.”

“But you must admit the poisoner has been rather clever regarding his methodology. I mean the Aurors have been left with no clues at all regarding his identity.”

“I would attribute a great deal of that to incompetence on the part of our law enforcement officers. It’s pathetic what passes for an Auror these days.” He gave me a significant look and I blushed uncomfortably. “The rest is sheer, unmitigated luck on the killer’s part. It’s really only a matter of time before he or she is tripped up and caught. Honestly though, how much talent does it take to get a few drops of an elixir in someone’s morning tea? It’s hardly higher Arithmancy.”

Rita glanced over at the pad before continuing, “Perhaps not, but the killer has managed to gain access to both offices and residences without being noticed.”

“A third year at Hogwarts could manage a decent enough Polyjuice Potion to gain access to the Minister himself, were they suitably motivated. Do you really think it so much more difficult to manage to slip into the Longbottom home undetected?” He paused to examine his fingernails as if he found them infinitely more interesting than this particular conversation. I’d never mention it to him, but his resemblance in that moment to Sirius throughout most of our school days together was downright startling. Bored, indolent indifference combined with a casual, boneless grace; that effortless superiority that made some deep instinct within me want very badly to bare my throat in submission. I shuddered involuntarily and buried the impulse as ruthlessly as I could; picturing Severus’ sneer should he ever see it written too clearly on my features helped immensely.

Still, it was both surprising and a little disturbing to acknowledge the effect that Sirius had once had on me, and to find myself experiencing it again with Severus. I’d thought that particular response quite safely tucked away in the recesses of my memory. I was a married man. A straight married man.

And yet…

I’d never said as much to Sirius, of course, but if he’d ever crawled into my bed, amorous and interested, I wouldn’t have sent him away. At least, I don’t think I would have done. Not that such a thing would have happened, or had ever come close…much to my immense dismay as a teenager.

Musing over my teenaged foray into bisexuality distracted me rather effectively from the interview that Severus was thoroughly relishing. Albus had been quite correct when he noted his protégé’s flair for the dramatic. The man did enjoy the spotlight, though he’d never admit as much.

“Now, Mr. Snape, could you explain to me how you became involved in the investigation? It isn’t exactly standard procedure for the Ministry to request assistance from convicted criminals.” She looked at him over the rim of her glasses somewhat coquettishly.

“The Minister himself requested my involvement. Claimed my knowledge would be invaluable. And I, of course, acquiesced. I see it as my duty, and if my humble talents can be of use in stopping these horrible deaths, then my path is clear.” He smiled with such blatant insincerity that I couldn’t contain a soft chuckle. “I’m always prepared to do my duty.”

“Of course,” she returned blandly. “I’d just like to thank you so much for your hospitality and your honesty, Mr. Snape. We all hope that you’ll be able to help put a stop to these horrendous murders.”

“You’re very welcome, Ms. Skeeter.”

She waved away the Dicta-Quill and gestured for the photographer to collect his equipment. “I’ll be out in a moment,” she told him, before turning back to Severus. “All right, Snape, let’s have the real story.”

“Why whatever do you mean?”

“No more games, Snape, is this investigation making any progress or are you all just chasing your tails?”

He eyed her for a moment before replying, “Off the record?”

“Oh, of course.” Clearly she’d decided to be equally insincere.

Snape smiled but there was no real pleasure in it. “There has been some progress, and I expect we will be reaching a denouement in the near future. Unless I’m much mistaken, shortly after this article goes public.”

She adjusted her glasses and looked at him rather seriously. “I’ve never pictured you as the type to volunteer as sacrificial lamb, I find it rather intriguing. Why put yourself in the killer’s sights?”

“I have my reasons, Ms. Skeeter, none of which are for public consumption. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have a great deal of work to do.”

Rita nodded and stood, straightening her skirt once more. “Have it your way, Snape. I’m rather looking forward to writing your obituary, I promise you, it’ll be a helluva read.” With that, she turned on her heel and left.


	18. Chapter 18

_“What potions have I drunk of Siren tears,  
Distill’d from limbecks foul as hell within,  
Applying fears to hopes and hopes to fears,  
Still losing when I saw myself to win!  
What wretched errors hath my heart committed,  
Whilst it hath thought itself so blessed never!  
How have mine eyes out of their spheres been fitted  
In the distraction of this madding fever!  
O benefit of ill! now I find true  
That better is by evil still made better;  
And ruin’d love, when it is built anew,  
Grows fairer than at first, more strong, far greater.  
So I return rebuked to my content  
And gain by ill thrice more than I have spent.”_

_Sonnet 119 CXIX._

 

I entered Snape’s sitting room with the latest issue of the Daily Prophet tucked under my arm. Of course, Severus was already reading it. He glanced up as I said, “Oh, you have a copy.”

“Shacklebolt presented me with it before he went off duty, he also commented that Scrimgeour was apoplectic. Were I you, I’d dust off my resume in the not too distant future.”

“Fantastic,” I sighed, collapsing bonelessly on the sofa. “Well, I suppose as long as we can afford cat food we’ll get by. Hopefully he won’t extend his wrath to Dora. You don’t think he’d do that, do you?”

Severus shrugged and continued reading. I gazed down at my own copy and watched his photo sneer back at me. With a sigh I folded it and turned it over.

“So what do we do next?” I asked at last.

“You could begin by putting the kettle on, I could do with a cup of tea.”

“You know I’m so delighted I can be of such profound and vital service to the investigation. Really makes dragging myself out of bed this morning seem worthwhile,” I drawled.

“There’s a new tin of Earl Gray just over the sink.” Severus added a little hand wave to hurry me on my way.

When I returned with two steaming mugs, I said, “When I asked about what our next plans were I was hoping for something a bit longer term.”

“I’m well aware of that, Lupin.” He began to take a sip, then paused and asked, “Password?”

“Stubby bloody Boardman.”

His lips twitched into a grim smile. “I think that after today it would be advisable for you to bring your own food and drink. And I shall want you here every day from now until…”

“Until?” I prompted, taking the chair across from him.

“Just plan to be here every day, Lupin. If nothing else you can see it as an excellent excuse to avoid the Minister.”

“But…” I squirmed a bit uncomfortably and glanced at the fireplace. “Well, you do know there’s a full moon tomorrow.”

“I was aware of that, yes.” He glared at me for a moment before muttering, “I’ll just ask the killer politely to wait a few days more before murdering me then, shall I? I mean we wouldn’t want to inconvenience you.”

“I’m just trying to be pragmatic, Severus. You know I’m all but useless the day after a change, and that’s if I’m lucky. A particularly bad month can leave me bed-ridden for weeks.” I’m not sure why I felt the sudden need to explain all of this to him, why I felt this intense need to justify my physical limitations. I must admit, my own reaction annoyed me more than his petulance. “You knew all of this when you took me on in the investigation. I will do my best to be here as soon as I can afterwards, but it might be wise to create something of a backup plan, just in case. Perhaps I could talk to Mina…”

“No, no outsiders.” He was adamant about the point. “I’ll speak to Shacklebolt and Johnstone, they’re both at least marginally capable. We’ll make do, I suppose.”

I relaxed marginally. “For today, at least, I’d like to be as useful as possible. Is there anything I can assist you with?”

“There is one thing, I could use test subjects.”

“Test subjects?”

Severus sighed, “Unless you’d like to volunteer to try the Torridus potion I’m in the process of recreating.”

My nose wrinkled with distaste. “Must we? Test it, I mean?” The thought of putting some poor creatures to death didn’t sit at all well with me.

“It would be rather difficult to pin down the formula without testing it, Lupin.”

“What…well, what sort of…subjects do you need?”

“I should prefer rats.” His lips stretched into a malicious leer. “Months spent in the company of Mr. Pettigrew, seems to have influenced me more than I realized.”

“Very well,” I returned glumly. “Is there anything else?”

“A bottle of middling quality fire whiskey to replenish my stock.”

“Fine.”

“That should do for now. And don’t dawdle, you still have a number of witness statements to read through, and then I’ll want a summary of your conclusions.”

I felt quite certain that some dawdling would be required. And some chocolate. If I had to face both consigning several innocent little creatures to a gruesome end and the thought of reading through more witness reports, then chocolate was an absolute necessity.

“I’ll be back shortly.”

“See that you are,” he returned sternly.

***

Three rats, one box of chocolate truffles, and a bottle of fire whiskey later I returned to face my grim fate. We stopped only briefly for dinner, which Jamie provided before his shift ended. Fish and chips was hardly gourmet fare, but it did provide a delightful excuse to take a much needed break. And it also provided a good deal of entertainment as Severus insisted that Jamie personally taste each and every piece of food before he’d as much as touch it.

I managed to extend my break by taking some time to chat with Kingsley, but Severus soon called me back to work. By ten p.m. I’d assembled all of my notes, though I felt as if my work had all been a spectacular waste of time. “There’s nothing here, Severus. At least nothing we didn’t already know.”

Snape glanced up from the cutting board he was currently using to mince what looked rather like ginger. “And the membership rolls in the Daughters of Hecate?”

“They had several new requests for inclusion but no one had been settled on. And certainly none of the new prospective members were in attendance the day of Umbridge’s death.”

“Did you discover anything further regarding the woman Pansy was meeting at Rosmerta’s?”

“Aside from the fact that she seemed to be an attractive red head, no, nothing. No one seems to have recognized her. Given that our killer would have no difficulty in brewing a Polyjuice potion, I don’t know how much we can discover from that.”

“Odd though,” he noted, returning to his work, “that the killer was familiar with Parkinson’s taste in women.”

“Perhaps it was a lucky guess?”

“Not likely. Our killer doesn’t seem the type to leave anything to chance. That would imply that this person was acquainted with either Miss Weasley or Pansy…or, I suppose Molly. The murderer is right here, Lupin, right in front of our eyes. I’m more convinced of that than ever.”

I couldn’t entirely suppress a shudder at that. The idea that this fiend might be someone I knew, perhaps had spoken to even in passing was profoundly disturbing. I didn’t want to dwell on it any longer than necessary. “So the killer was acquainted with the habits of three very different people with little to no connection between them. I don’t see how this gets us anywhere, Severus.”

“The Ministry is the key, Lupin.”

Leaning against the counter, I replied, “I follow you as far as Umbridge is concerned. Until her dismissal a few months ago, at least. And the files mentioned that Neville had done some consulting work with the Ministry. But where does Pansy figure in?”

“Through the Weasleys. Arthur is still employed there, and Molly might just as well be. And yes, I recognize that it’s tenuous but it’s really all we have at the moment. I didn’t really think the Daughters of Hecate would lead us anywhere, but we needed to rule the possibility out. And now we have.”

“Are you honestly telling me that I’ve spent the past six hours pouring over these bloody reports so that I could rule out several possibilities you already knew to be dead ends? Well that’s just bloody brilliant, that is.”

“If you’re going to act like a child, Lupin, do be good enough to take yourself into the sitting room. I’ve work to do.”

“Well can you at least tell me how much longer you’ll be? It’s getting late.”

“Check back in another hour, I’ll have a better idea then.”

Grumbling, I returned to the sitting room and pulled one of the Hardy brothers books from the shelf. I’d be damned if I was going to spend another minute looking at those bloody reports. The boy detectives had to be more interesting.

I must have dozed off shortly after I’d begun, as I started awake when Severus stalked into the room. He picked up “Beyond Brewing” and leafed through it quickly. Yawning, I said, “It’s really time for me to be going.”

Snape frowned. “I need more time.”

I sighed wearily and glanced at my watch, it was nearly midnight. “How much more time?”

“Several more hours at the least.”

“Severus, it’s very late and I’m exhausted, why don’t I just come back tomorr-“

“How can you possibly expect me to make any progress if I have to adhere your strict bedtime? This is utterly absurd!”

“Severus, you need sleep too.”

“What I need,” he hissed, furiously, “is to be allowed to complete my work without constant interruption. If you’re tired leave, but let me keep the wand. You can have it back in the morning.”

I went very still. “That wasn’t the agreement.”

“Bugger the bloody agreement!” He began to pace around the room, his face flushed with anger. He threw his arms out dramatically. I noticed that without a robe Snape’s gestures seemed somehow less grand and sweeping. In Muggle attire he attained an air of the exotic, to be sure, but he seemed somehow…diminished. “Fine. Fine! Stay here on the sofa. Put up whatever wards you like, warn Shacklebolt that I’m armed and dangerous, do whatever you feel necessary. But let me work!”

My first inclination was to demand the wand and be on my way. He was pushing the limits too far, and I was already uncomfortable enough with them where they’d originated. I took a deep breath and attempted to be as reasonable as a cranky, exhausted lycanthrope could. “Severus, the full moon is almost upon me and I am in no mood for one of your tantrums just now. However, I can see that you’re onto something and I’d hate to be responsible for breaking your momentum. I’m willing to be flexible, but just this once. If you push me again I promise you that you won’t like the results.”

He paused and gazed down at me for the span of several long seconds. His breathing returned to normal and the ruddy color that had suffused his face began to fade. With a slow nod he turned his back and walked into the makeshift lab that had once been his kitchen. I got up slowly and with great care set several undetectable wards that would alert me in the instant he attempted to use anything more powerful than a mild charm.

To be honest I really didn’t believe he’d try anything, he was obsessed with whatever it was he was concocting and with the case itself. I could see it in his eyes, his demeanor, even his body language. This was the first time in over two years that he had something more interesting to occupy that brilliant mind of his beyond playing his little games with the Minister. I’d brought him a puzzle that was uniquely worthy of his skills, and he was determined not to fail in the solving of it.

Certainly pride played a major role in it, not even I was foolish enough to believe that he was doing this out of some absurd altruism. Whatever the cause, I was beginning to think that we might just stop the fiend who was brutally killing our friends and acquaintances, and I was profoundly grateful to him for it.

I considered transfiguring the sofa myself, but wasn’t sure if the Ministry’s wards would be triggered if I did, so I settled back onto it and did my best to make myself comfortable. Kicking off my shoes, I pulled my jacket over me and curled up on my side. My eyelids drooped almost immediately, though an odd mingling of scents in the pillow teased my brain for a bit. Dust and age, that peculiar sour smell that underlay even the freshest of furniture was there. But atop that there were other fragrances, exotic, dark, but pleasant. Was that dragon’s blood? Maybe a hint of night blooming jasmine. I drifted off shortly after identifying just a trace of rosemary.

As one set of scents saw me off to sleep, another awoke me with a start. The acrid, inharmonious stench of Wolfsbane was unmistakable. I tottered up, confused and bleary-eyed to discover a steaming mug of it waiting for me on the coffee table. Beside it was the wand. I blinked in the light of the just rising sun and collected both, then went in search of Severus.

The kitchen door was shut, so I eased it open quietly. He’d finally passed out on the top of a tiny cot, too tired even to remove his own shoes. I stood there, staring at him for much longer than I should have. I’d never seen him asleep before, he seemed so much more...approachable. 

“You know it’s rather difficult to sleep with you staring down at me like that.”

I yelped with surprise, “Sorry! I…I thought you were asleep.”

“Well I should certainly like to be.”

“Sorry. I…I just wanted to say thanks. For the Wolfsbane, I mean.”

“Simple pragmatism, I couldn’t have you laid up for days at a time, not now.” He paused, then rolled over trying to find a comfortable position on the little cot. “And I’ve had my fill of your whining as well.”

“Why don’t you go and sleep on a proper bed? That can’t be comfortable.”

“I can’t leave that,” he indicated a softly simmering cauldron on the stove top, “unattended for too long. Electric stoves aren’t quite as reliable as magic flames, but needs must.”

“Well I’m still here, so you could keep using the wand…if, if you wanted to.”

“Yes, but I assumed you’d want to bugger off as soon as you woke. And now you’ve had your Wolfsbane and your wand so there’s nothing more to keep you, is there?”

I looked down at my hands, a little puzzled. “But I thought you said that I should stick close, you know, in case the killer…”

Severus threw an arm over his eyes and groaned, “It’s a full moon, Lupin. Go do whatever it is you usually do under the circumstances.”

“But…Wait, what do you mean by whatever it is I usually do under the circumstances?”

“I mean I don’t currently have anything for you to do here today. Rest. Take vitamins. Whatever you feel necessary. I may need you tomorrow. I shall, of course, refrain from summoning you unless it is an absolute necessity. But the following day I shall expect you back. With any luck I’ll have the finished Torridus formula and perhaps a keener insight into the killer’s mind.”

“And in the meantime?”

“In the meantime I will refrain from eating or drinking anything I haven’t prepared myself. And if you ever actually leave I might just manage a bit of sleep.”

“I could,” I began, peering into the cauldron that was sending up a plume of dark blue steam, “keep an eye on that for you while you rest. Then you could sleep in a real bed and…”

“You’d cock it up.”

“No I wouldn’t!”

One dark eye cracked open. “Yes you would. We were in potions together, remember? I still have the occasional nightmare that prominently features your spectacularly abysmal attempt at Polyjuice. That table was never the same, you know.”

“I could…”

“Go.”

“But…”

Both eyes shot open and Severus bellowed, “Lupin, piss off!”

“Fine,” I muttered, pulling on my robe and storming out, “Fine, I’m going.” I almost slammed the door on my way out, but thought better of it. No sense disturbing the neighbors simply because Severus was being an unbearable git. Muttering under my breath, I almost walked directly into Jamie who was sitting on the front steps having a cup of tea.

“’Lo Remus, late night? You’re starting to make a habit of staying over, aren’t you? Not that I disapprove, mind you.”

“I’m not in the mood this morning, Jamie.” I returned shortly. “I really don’t know why I bother coming here at all. I’m not adding anything to the investigation whatsoever. One minute he tells me he needs me, the next he’s dismissing me as if I were an errant House Elf. It’d serve him right if I did just bugger off entirely. Let someone else run his ridiculous little errands and fix his tea. I’ve better things to do.”

Jamie just smiled and gazed down at his mug. “Oh you’ll be back, Remus.”

“Will I? You know that, do you?”

“Yes I do. You didn’t start all this just to give up now. And I think you’ll see it through to the end.”

“In spite of Severus, you mean.”

Shrugging, Jamie replied, “If need be, yeah.”


	19. Chapter 19

I spent the afternoon feeling rather sorry for myself for a variety of reasons. I was going to lose my job, that was a foregone conclusion. It didn’t matter how the case turned out, Scrimgeour would never forgive me for my part in the whole fiasco. I’d been wrong to think that only Snape would suffer in the end, very wrong.

If I’d felt like I had added anything to the investigation, no matter how minor, I suppose it might have even seemed worthwhile. But if I was brutally honest with myself I had to acknowledge that all I’d really done with any degree of success was run errands. Well, that and ask the wrong questions of the right people.

And to top it all off I had a bloody full moon to face. My skin already felt too tight, stretched, stiff and dry as old parchment. The muscles in my left leg twitched, and my knee ached with remembered pain. I’d need my cane if I were going to be mobile for the next few days.

Sighing, I threw myself into a chair. I picked up the book Severus had given me, and then put it back down. I’d be damned if I would do anything even vaguely related to the man that day if I could help it.

Of course, that left me with precious little else to do.

I’d seen to Whimsy’s needs, tidied up, and even done a bit of laundry. After a short walk I came back to the flat, half expecting to find an owl awaiting me. No, not expecting, hoping an owl would be there waiting for me. It was ridiculous, of course, the only one waiting for me at home was Whimsy, who demanded his dinner in no uncertain terms.

I still had a few hours left until moonrise but I knew better than to try to eat. Unless I wished to revisit the meal during my transformation, it was pointless. I was just about to put an album on the victrola when a familiar face appeared quite unexpectedly in the fireplace. “Mina?”

She grinned up at me. “You’re home, terrific! Mind if I pop by for a minute?”

“I…certainly, please do.”

She appeared in a puff of floo powder. Dusting herself off, she said, “Sorry to drop in like this but I was hoping to get an update before I head home for the weekend.”

“Oh, right, I’d forgotten it was Friday. One tends to lose track of time when not on a strict schedule.” Smiling a bit ruefully I added, “Well, there are certain schedules I’m almost never able to put out of my mind, of course.”

She blinked at me for a long moment, then realization struck. “Full moon. I’m so sorry, I wasn’t thinking, I can…”

“No, no, please stay and have a cup of tea. There’s hours yet, you’re in no danger, I promise.”

Smiling, Mina replied, “I’m not afraid of you, Remus. I never have been.”

I suddenly felt myself blushing. “I’ll just…I’ll go fetch that tea.”

A few minutes later, we’d both settled in and I’d caught her up on the events of the past few days. I didn’t feel comfortable in sharing the details of Severus’ plot to make himself the next target of the killer. It wasn’t, strictly speaking, the sort of thing I should have condoned or allowed myself to be involved with. But I did mention the Minister’s visit, and Severus’ work on the Torridus potion. She seemed quite fascinated by his work on the latter.

“I wish I had more to tell you, but Severus seemed to think he’d know more in a day or two.”

Her eyes seemed very distant for a moment as she stared into the fireplace. “Does he really think he can recreate the formula in such a short time?” She brought her gaze back to me and clarified, “I mean, even with the sample it’s quite an undertaking.”

“He seemed fairly confident, and he’s not the sort to exaggerate his own abilities.”

“But what does he hope to gain from it? I mean so what if he can recreate the formula?”

I sipped my tea and shrugged. “As I understand it he thinks he’ll gain some insight into the killer’s mind. To be honest I’m useless when it comes to potions. I can understand the need to prepare the ingredients in a certain way or to gather them at a certain time. But there’s more to it than that. It’s too…I don’t know, subtle I suppose, for me to fully grasp. Severus understands it, though, and if he believes that understanding will help lead him to the killer then I have to believe him.”

Mina nodded thoughtfully, then gazed at me with such open fascination that I found myself squirming a bit under the scrutiny. “This is going to sound a bit…nutty, but...can I ask you for a huge favor?”

“Certainly.”

Smiling, she leaned closer to me on the loveseat and reached towards my face. I wasn’t entirely sure what she had in mind, but for the first time I’d begun to wonder if perhaps her interest in me might not go beyond mere friendship. I found the thought both terrifying and exhilarating at once. 

“Sorry, but this has been driving me crazy.” She ran a hand through my hair, pushing it back away from my face. I winced as I felt a few hairs tugged out and she quickly apologized. “Oops, this stupid ring always gets caught on stuff, but oh how I’ve been longing to do that! The whole hair in the face thing, I just…oooh, how can you stand it?”

I relaxed a bit and smiled. “Frankly I’m just thankful to still have enough of it to fall in my eyes.”

She started to open her mouth to respond when the front door opened and I heard Dora call out, “Remus, are you here? I wasn’t expecting…” My wife stopped dead as she walked into the room and saw Mina and I seated so closely together. 

“Dora, this is Mina Wildersock. She’s the Ministry’s Chief Necromancer.”

Mina held out her hand and Dora stared at it coldly. 

I tried again, “We were just discussing…”

“Remus, I really need to speak to you,” Dora cut in abruptly. “Will you excuse us, Ms. Wildersock?”

Mina gave me a slightly strained smile before carefully setting down her teacup and rising to her feet. “I should really be on my way. Lots to do and not much time to do it in. You know how it is.”

I nodded rather stupidly but couldn’t muster a smile in return. I was far too furious with Dora, who continued to stare malevolently at the Necromancer. “I’ll see you on Monday, Mina, thank you for stopping by.”

The floo powder had barely cleared the air before Dora lit into me. “Are you trying to humiliate me? Is this...is this some sort of revenge?”

“What in Circe’s name are you talking about?” I honestly couldn’t begin to follow her thinking. “Mina was kind enough to stop by and discuss the case with me...”

“Oh the case, of course the case! The case you shouldn’t even be involved with. You’re not an Auror, Remus, you work in the Transportation Office, for Merlin’s sake!”

“I think the Minister would disagree with you, my dear,” I returned, starting to tidy up in an instinctive response to my growing annoyance. I just needed to get out of the room quickly, a few minutes spent carefully cleaning the dishware and I’d be ready to face her again.

Sadly, she followed me into the kitchen. “He only agreed to this farce to get Snape’s help. If Snape hadn’t specifically asked for you, you’d still be stamping Apparation applications.”

“I’m sure you’d know best about that, dear.” I was giving her an out there, an opportunity to leave the conversation gracefully, but then my wife has never quite managed to do anything with what you could call ‘grace’.

“This is punishment, punishment for me and Charlie.” Dora’s voice was low and angry.

“What in Merlin’s name are you talking about?”

“You’re having an affair with her, aren’t you?”

I focused on the teacup in my hand as if it were a pensieve. “That’s absurd, we’re trying to solve these murders and we...”

“We, it’s always we, and Mina this or Severus that. Why couldn’t you work on this with me? Why can’t ‘we’ mean you and I for a change? If you want sex, Remus, I’m right here, we could just...”

“I don’t want sex,” I barked, finally tossing the cup into the suds, “Where you possibly got the idea that Sev-...” That stopped me short, anger quickly morphing into profound confusion. What on earth had made me say that? Taking a calming breath, I finished, “I mean there’s nothing going on between Mina and myself, nothing. I have always taken our wedding vows quite seriously and I feel no need to enact some sort of childish vengeance on you for your...indiscretion.”

“Always so mature, so honest and decent. You’ve never made a misstep in your life and you just can’t bear the thought that you married someone who isn’t nearly as perfect as yourself, can you?” Dora’s hair had changed to a brilliant scarlet as she paced behind me in the cramped confines of our kitchen. “We can’t all be so bloody perfect! Some of us make mistakes, but all we can do is to try to make up for them. You won’t let me, though, I’ve tried, Remus, Circe knows I’ve tried...” 

“I’ve never expected nor requested perfection, Dora.” I could feel the heat in my cheeks and ears, and the thudding of my own heart was unnaturally loud. “But you’re right, I did have certain expectations and one of them was that you would actually adhere to the minimum requirements of our marriage vows. I mean honestly, Dora, being faithful to your husband really isn’t some sort of unnatural, unheard of request. Perfectly ordinary people manage it on a daily basis, you know.”

She stopped dead at that, going pale and wide-eyed. Her hair lost some of its intensity and her features shifted ever so slightly. If I hadn’t lived with her so long, come to know her every mood as if it were an extension of my own… Well, when her face took on the all too familiar little girl cast that generally signaled the end of any argument or disagreement, I found myself becoming even angrier. I wouldn’t be manipulated again, especially not when I was in the right. 

And to be totally honest, it felt downright glorious to actually let myself feel good and bloody angry. I was determined to enjoy it while it lasted. It wouldn’t last long, it never did.

“Don’t,” was all I said, drying my soaking hands off on my trousers. “That’s not going to work this time.” 

“What are you talking about?” Her eyes had gone a soft, watery blue. Her cheeks were fuller and slightly flushed. Suddenly she looked like a teenager who’d been told she flunked her NEWTs.

“That.” I gestured around my own face and then shook my head. “That whole…just that. I know you don’t do it intentionally, but whether you mean to do it or not makes not the slightest difference. You’re wrong about me, my motivations, and most especially about my actions. I’m not sleeping with anyone else, and I sure as hell wouldn’t do it simply to punish you. I shouldn’t have to bloody well tell you that either.” Brushing past her, I moved back into the living room where there was actually room for me to pace. “For the first time since the war I actually have something important to do, something that matters. You might see me as utterly useless, but as it happens, not everyone agrees with that opinion. And it’s pretty bloody sad that Severus Snape should have a higher regard for me than my own wife!”

She followed me, clearly repentant, and bottom lip quivering. “I never…oh Remus, I’m sorry, I…”

“No, you did. You meant just that. You don’t think very much of me, Dora, and I don’t believe you have for quite some time. I don’t think you could’ve done what you did with…Well I don’t think you could have had an affair if you did think highly of me. And no, don’t interrupt.” I glared at her severely until she sat down. “You meant every word you said, my dear, and frankly I was glad to finally hear you say them. To speak aloud what’s been simmering away beneath the surface for these past many months. You’ve wanted to say them, I dare say needed to.” I sat across from her and forced myself to pause, to take several deep breaths. I just needed to sit quietly and think for a moment before I spoke again.

My wife, however, was not the type to just sit quietly and allow me to collect my thoughts. “I just want...”

Fine. I’d be damned if I was going to lose the momentum I’d just established by turning the conversation over to her. I’d started this, and I couldn’t afford to try to stop now. “Dora, I believe your actions over the past seven months have made it appallingly clear that you don’t have any idea what you want. One minute you want me, the next you want Charlie, and sometimes I think you’d happily rid yourself of both of us given half the chance.” I looked at her, really looked at her for the first time since we’d been married. I saw a round-faced, puffy eyed little girl, chewing her bottom lip and gazing up at me with big teary eyes; and I found myself quite suddenly feeling like a dirty old man. What had ever inspired me to marry a child in the first place? How had I ever justified this decision to myself?

Taking a deep breath I began to speak honestly to her, in a way I’d never dared to before. Before what, I wondered? Before I realized I had options in life, yes, before I understood that I didn’t have to settle for whatever crumbs of affection and consideration she might feel like imparting on me.

It was liberating, even a bit frightening, but there was a keen and palpable sense of relief in finally acknowledging the truth of our relationship. “We should never have gotten married, Dora.” She opened her mouth to protest, and I cut her off abruptly, “No, we shouldn’t have. I told you in the infirmary that horrible day when Albus...well when we thought Albus had been murdered, I told you then that I was too old for you, too poor, too ill and I was right. I had no business accepting your affections, knowing full well how this would all end. I’m not...I’m not blaming you, dear, you have to believe that, but I’m going to say this now because I think you can hear it and understand. You wanted a father figure, and I believe to some degree you still do. But I have no desire to fill that role any more.”

“No, Remus, you’re wrong, I...”

“Let me finish, please, because I don’t know when or if I’ll have the courage to say this again. You turned to Charlie for a reason, Dora, it didn’t ‘just happen’, deep down I think you wanted someone young and healthy and whole to love. I don’t blame you for that, and I fully admit I could never be any of those things again. I believe that may be what you really want, not to sit at home nights reading books with me, making sure I take my Wolfsbane, helping me to bed after a change. That’s not a marriage, or at least it isn’t one for someone your age. If we could have grown old together things would have been different, but we don’t get that luxury, not in this lifetime, at any rate.” I folded my hands in my lap and stared down at them, trying to find the strength to say what I knew I must. “It’s time to end this, Dora. It’s time you got on with your life, and I got on with mine.”

“What are you saying?” She actually looked so frightened that I felt almost guilty for having stated the simple facts of our relationship in such plain terms.

“I’m saying, dear, that it’s time we got a divorce.”


	20. Chapter 20

I awoke the next morning on the sitting room floor. I’d managed to pull a small throw blanket over me at some point after I changed back. Whimsy was curled in the small of my back, and was quite annoyed when I unseated him.

After a slow and painful trip to the loo, I forced myself to drink some water and take a mild pain potion. I noticed that Dora hadn’t left any food for the cat before she’d gone the night before, so I fed Whimsy before taking myself off to bed. I spent the remainder of the day in blissful unconsciousness.

Just after sunset I was awakened by a tapping at the bedroom window. With a groan, I dragged myself out of bed and limped to the window to allow the two owls perched on the windowsill entry. Removing their notes, I shooed them back out and shut the window once more. The nights were becoming decidedly cool, and I couldn’t afford to come down with a chill just then.

The first note, surprisingly enough, was from Dora. It read, ‘I knew you’d spend the day in bed and wouldn’t have heard the news. The killer’s struck again. Cornelius Fudge.’

I collapsed onto the bed, stunned and horrified. Fudge? Had Severus been so completely wrong in this case? Had his interview in the Prophet served no purpose whatsoever? Or had the killer struck the former Minister in retaliation?

Cursing under my breath, I opened the second note. It was from Severus and contained only one word, ‘Come.’

“Fuck.” Stumbling into the bathroom, I dug around for another pain potion, swallowing the entire thing without hesitation. “Fuck, fuck, fuck.” It became a bit of a mantra as I pulled on some clothing, grabbed my cane and my wand, and headed out the door.

I arrived in Spinner’s End within minutes, and was rather surprised that Kingsley was nowhere in sight. Perhaps the Ministry had requested his assistance in the Fudge murder case, or perhaps he had simply stepped away for a bite to eat. With a shrug I lowered the defensive wards as Jamie had taught me, then knocked on the front door.

There was no response.

I knocked again, growing a little annoyed. What game was Snape playing at? He’d summoned me here on the one night I’d asked him for a little consideration, and now he’d left me standing out front like a bloody deliveryman. Lifting my collar I shoved my hands in my pockets and vowed that if he didn’t answer in ten more seconds I’d Apparate home and he could just sit and stew until I felt up to returning. It was the day after the bloody full moon, for Merlin’s sake. Typical thoughtlessness.

I must admit I was a little disappointed when he opened the door just a crack at last. “Lupin?”

“Well who were you expecting? St. Nicholas? Open the damn door.”

“First, what is our code phrase?” his voice sounded unexpectedly coarse and strained.

Frowning, I muttered an exasperated, “Stubby Boardman, can I come in now please?”

“Oh by all means,” he drawled, gesturing for me to precede him down the hallway. 

I moved into the sitting room quickly, reveling in the warmth of the blazing fire he had going. Rubbing my hands together to bring some sensation back into them, I finally noticed the room was in a rather odd state of disarray. Severus was almost fanatically tidy under normal circumstances. “Another visit from our Minister of Magic?” I turned and actually felt my heart stop dead in my chest.

He was quite literally as pale as ash, dark eyes bruised and bloodshot, he shuffled forward partially stooped and both long arms wrapped around his midsection. His breathing was shallow and quick, his dressing gown was damp with sweat and clung to his skeletal frame like a shroud. “Not…exactly….” Snape’s words came in painful gasps as he made his way to the makeshift bed he’d created for himself on the sofa. “Had a visit from you, actually.”

I was beside him between one breath and the next, my arms encircling his frighteningly frail body. As I helped ease him down onto the couch I asked, “What are you talking about? What’s going on?”

“Careless. First time in my life,” he grunted as we settled him in. “I should have been more suspicious…but…but it was you…”

I shook my head, mute with horror.

“I hadn’t summoned you, but…there you were, and you were so pleased. Said the killer had been found…brought a bottle of champagne. And I was so tired...so bloody tired.”

“No, no it wasn’t me, Severus it…”

He gave me a disgusted glance. “I had rather put that together on my own once I started vomiting blood, yes.”

“Merlin.” I shot up off the sofa and ran to the fireplace, looking around furiously. “Where’s the bloody floo powder? I’ve got to get a medi-wizard…”

“Lupin, don’t be an ass, I’m not allowed floo powder.”

“Fuck! Right, right, I’ll Apparate out once I’ve gotten past the wards, I’ll be back in a tick, just…”

“No.” How someone so wasted and ill could manage to be, at the same time, utterly commanding, I would never understand. But he did stop me in my tracks. “You’ll do no such thing. You will, in fact, remain right here with me.”

“Are you out of your fucking mind? Severus you’ve been poisoned, we’ve got to…”

“Lupin, I’m well aware that I’ve been poisoned, but if you’ll recall turning me into an irresistible target for the killer was the general idea. And as this person arrived looking and sounding like you, we’re no closer to identifying them than we were before. However, I think it likely that they’ll return to the scene of the crime in this case.”

“Why? Why should they?”

“Hearing about my death simply won’t be enough. No, I think he’ll be back to gloat.”

“Severus this is going much too far.”

“I didn’t come this far only to be thwarted this close to success. I will not accept failure; not now, do you hear me, Lupin? I will not accept it.”

I took a deep, calming breath, and tried again, “Severus, you’ve already said that the killer’s victims are purely incidental, that they’re a means to an end. A method of communicating the killer’s message to someone else.”

He smiled grimly and grunted, “It’s gratifying to know that you have actually paid some attention to something I’ve said.”

“Well then,” I growled, “if that’s the case then why in Circe’s name would they return here?”

“For one simple reason, Lupin.” He grimaced and clutched the edge of the sofa with a white knuckled grip. I slid my hand over his wishing I could offer something more and wanting nothing more than to disobey him and summon help, real help. Catching his breath, he continued, “I am the person the killer has been attempting to contact the entire time.”

I stared at him wordlessly for several minutes. I felt almost as if I’d returned to my lupine form, language escaping me utterly. Shaking my head slowly, I finally managed, “That’s not possible.”

“Well,” he grunted, leaning back on the cushions, “if I’m wrong, and I assure you I’m not, we’ll know soon enough.”

“If you think for one instant I’m just going to sit here and watch you die, you’re mad. Completely and utterly out of your bloody mind!” That was it, I was leaving with or without his permission, and I’d drag the first medi-witch I found back with me. “To hell with this. You stay right there and I’ll be back before you can say ‘Riddikulus’.”

“Lupin, sit your skinny ass down and listen to me for five minutes!” Severus bellowed, startling me so badly I actually fell back on my rump. “Do you honestly believe me stupid enough to begin something like this without having carefully considered the consequences? If I knew I’d be the target of a poisoner don’t you think I’d have the good sense to keep a bezoar on hand?” I blinked up at him until he pulled a small stone from an inner pocket of his robe and showed it to me. He tucked it away once more and continued, “I haven’t taken leave of my senses, Lupin, I assure you. And if the killer doesn’t arrive within the next quarter of an hour I will be quite content to admit my mistake, use the bezoar and that will be an end to it.”

“But how can you be sure that’s safe? Severus the others died so quickly, what if…”

“I know what I’m doing, Lupin. I am a potions expert, for Circe’s sake.” The look he gave me left me quite speechless. “Just…just this once I’m asking you to trust me.”

“I will…I do, I just don’t understand why you feel the need to put yourself through this. Even if the killer did show up, what difference would it make?”

“The murderer has to believe they’re safe, that they have the upper hand. We need a confession, Lupin, this has to be definitive.”

“And you think they’re just going to show up here, sit down over a cuppa’ and tell you all the sordid details of their mad killing spree? Why in Merlin’s name would anyone do that?”

“Because this person believes I’ll understand, even appreciate their work. They’ve been trying to communicate with me all this time; they’ll need to make one more attempt before I die. That’s why I’ve been given such a slow acting poison.”

“Wouldn’t they worry that you might simply call for help?”

“Actually, that’s a rather good point.” He actually seemed a bit puzzled for perhaps the first time during this entire investigation.

“Severus, I noticed that Kingsley was nowhere to be seen outside.” Now I was starting to get a little nervous. “He’s not the type to abandon his post without a bloody good cause.”

Snape ran a hand slowly over his face. “Damn.” Sighing, he shook his head and added, “No, no he doesn’t fit the victim profile. He should be safe enough…I hope.”

“You hope? Wait, what precisely is the victim profile? I thought we had only a vague notion what connected the three and…oh shit. Oh Severus, I almost forgot, Fudge, Fudge has been murdered.”

“What?” He sat bolt upright, then immediately regretted the movement, doubling over in agony. “Fucking hell! Lupin, why didn’t you say so earlier?”

“I’m sorry, I was a little distracted!” I rubbed his arm trying desperately to comfort his distress in some small way. “Dora notified me just before I received your message. There were no details, I expect Mina is working on the body as we speak.”

“All right, all right,” he panted, “Fudge makes sense.”

“He does?”

Snape smiled grimly. “If my theory is correct, yes, yes he does. I wasn’t entirely honest with you regarding every single aspect of the case I’m afraid.” 

“You don’t bloody well say,” I growled, wondering just how much of a dupe he’d played me for. 

“The other trait all of the victims share in common is that each of them testified against me. Each was at least partially responsible for sending me to Azkaban and for my continued incarceration.”

“But Kingsley never testified.”

“No, he didn’t, and that’s why I believe he hasn’t been killed.”

“If not murdered, then what?”

He simply shook his head. “I’m not sure, but I think…” Before he could say another word there was an unexpected knock at the door. We both stiffened, then he clutched the front of my robes and pulled me nearer. “Behind the bookcase, and stay there until I say the password. Do not make a sound and do not open that door until I tell you. Do you understand?”

“All right…I…all right,” I whispered feverishly, “but with all the wards in place I won’t be able to cast anything more powerful than a Petrificus Totalis. And to be honest I’m not even sure that will be effective. If something happens…”

“Nothing will happen, the murderer thinks I’m dying so there will be no reason to cause me further harm. Now do as I’ve told you, precisely as I’ve told you and this ends here, tonight.” Another knock caused Severus to hiss, “Go, now!”

I moved quickly but as quietly as possible, almost forgetting my cane. I grabbed it and was behind the bookcase and in position as I heard Severus call out, “Just open the bloody door, damn you, it isn’t locked!”

And then I saw what I could not possibly believe, the recently deceased former Minister of Magic, Cornelius Fudge, striding into the room.

He didn’t appear to be a ghost, nor a ghoul, or a revenant of any kind. Rather he was his usual pompous, boisterous self, all congenial smiles and ridiculous lime green bowler hat. “Severus, Severus my boy how are you? I trust you’ve little to complain about these days. You do seem quite cozy here, and at the Ministry’s expense I might add. All the comforts of home, wot?” He seemed to find this particularly witty, and chuckled softly repeating just under his breath, “Ah, comforts of home, good one that.”

Severus was slumped against the arm of the sofa, his breathing shallow and eyes glazed but watchful. “Cornelius, how...unexpected.”

“Dear boy, you seem a bit under the weather. Should I perhaps summon you a medi-witch?”

“That would be rather pointless, Cornelius. I’m well aware that I’m dying.” 

“Oh now, Severus,” the former Minister tutted, “you always were one for dramatics. I’d rather hoped you might outgrow that tendency. I suppose that was somewhat naive of me. You do tend to cling to those nasty little personality defects of yours with a tenacity that I might otherwise find admirable.”

“Why...why are you here?”

“I just wanted to stop by and look in on an old friend. It’s been far too long. And it would seem fortunate that I did as this is to be your last evening on this earth.” Fudge smiled politely and pulled a chair closer to Snape’s prone body. “I’m just glad that I could be here with you. No one should have to die alone after all. Shall I hold your hand perhaps? Or would you like to make a confession or two before you pass on? I’m told I’m an excellent listener, though I’m afraid I can’t offer you much in the way of absolution. Absolution, that’s what they call it in one of those silly little Muggle religions, isn’t it? The remission of sins, a cleansing of the soul. Tell me, Severus, do you feel the need to rid yourself of a life’s worth of sins? You’re half Muggle, surely you can appreciate the concept, perhaps you were even raised in the religion.”

“My father,” Severus panted, his eyes going distant and shadowed.

“What?”

“My father was...a vicar for the...local parish.”

“Oh ho, that explains quite a bit. Couldn’t have been easy growing up with a religious Muggle father and a Witch mother. Bet they didn’t always get on, hmm? Had a few rows when you were growing up, particularly after you received your Hogwarts letter, ‘ey? Caused a bit of an uproar at the old homestead?”

“You might say that.” Severus began to cough pathetically; he caught his breath and hastily wiped away a trickle of blood from his mouth. My hands went unconsciously to the latch on the secret door, orders or no, he was suffering and I couldn’t let this go on a minute longer. Only the sound of his voice stayed my hand. “He attempted to ‘beat the Devil out of me’ on several occasions. I’m afraid he…wasn’t terribly successful.”

Cornelius laughed uproariously. “I’ll just bet he wasn’t!” The former Minister’s voice had begun to change, to crack and wobble like an old victrola record. His face too was bulging and shifting, melting and reforming. Indeed his whole body was changing, growing smaller and more delicate by the moment. 

Polyjuice, but not just any Polyjuice. To the best of my knowledge the potion worked through a variation of sympathetic magics, and that would require that the subject be alive. It was precisely the reason that Barty Crouch, Jr. had needed to keep Mad Eye locked up in that bloody chest of his. How had the killer managed to use the essence of a deceased body? And more importantly, why?

“You’re not looking very well, Fudge,” Severus murmured, watching the figure before him in absolute fascination.

“Enough games, Severus,” the faux Cornelius groaned as flesh, muscle and bone remade themselves before our eyes. “You know I’m not Fudge.”

“Perhaps you’d do me the honor of introducing yourself, then. I’ve been very much looking forward to meeting you.”

The figure had slumped in the chair, it’s back towards me, but I could make out what appeared to be blonde hair. A single word began to echo in the previous silence of my mind, ‘No. No. No.’ When the figure spoke it was in a voice so familiar and trusted that I doubled over to prevent myself from sobbing aloud. “My name is Mina. Mina Wildersock, and I’ve waited most of my life for this moment, Severus.”

I buried my face in my hands and rocked slowly back and forth like a broken child. It couldn’t be Mina, it simply couldn’t. She was a Necromancer, an honored, trusted Ministry official, but more than that, she’d become my friend. At least, I’d thought she had. Why hadn’t I seen it? How could I possibly have been so blind?

“The Necromancer?” Severus’ voice was coarse and breathy. “I believe Lupin has mentioned you on several occasions.” He paused, then closed his eyes. “At last the Torridus sample makes sense.”

She giggled, apparently recovering from the effects of the Polyjuice. “I must admit that was a bit cheeky of me, but I so wanted to see if you could replicate the formula.”

“You mean you wanted me to know how clever you were.”

Shrugging Mina replied, “Guilty. But tell me, did you manage it?”

“Yes.” His eyes slid towards the kitchen. “I will admit it was…a novel approach. Slowing down the heating process, and using an infusion of the rosemary rather than the herb itself was quite ingenious.”

“What gave me away?”

“The consistency. Not even the rum could quite cover it I’m afraid. Clever touch, though.”

“Well I couldn’t make it too easy for you, Severus. I wanted your respect, I still do, even now.”

“You’re going to let me die, aren’t you?”

Mina smiled then, but there was no triumph in it, rather a profound sadness. “I’m afraid you must, Severus, it’s for the best.”

“How?” he croaked brokenly, “How is this for the best?” 

She knelt down beside him and stroked his cheek tenderly. “Even you must admit that your life has been, well let’s be honest here, a colossal disappointment. I really am doing you a favor, though you don’t deserve it.” Her expression darkened, her full lips thinning with displeasure. “I thought you were better than them, all the rest of them. I thought you would understand, that you would appreciate my work.”

“I do...I...I did.”

Straightening, she glared down at him, the very personification of condemnation. “Liar. I was speaking to you, only to you, telling you my innermost thoughts, my feelings. I gave you my heart and you were too stupid, too shallow to understand!”

He shook his head weakly. “No, you’re wrong. I did understand your messages, I did. But that Skeeter woman, she...”

“Stop. Just stop this, Severus; we both know she couldn’t have put any words in your mouth. She’s a bug, a gnat compared to you.”

Snape took a deep, steadying breath and spoke with a strength I thought completely beyond him. “You’re right about that, quite right. I’m sorry, I shouldn’t lie about something so stupid, so obvious. But I told you the truth before, I did understand your messages. Look...look there on the table, the notes, read them yourself.”

She glared at him for a long moment, then moved over to the table. Her eyes scanned page after page, pale lips moving as she read the words there. Slowly, painfully slowly she turned to face him again. “You...you did know...you did understand.” An expression of horror dawned across her features with an eloquence that tightened my gut with fear. “You knew and still you betrayed me? How...how could you?”

“Because,” he sighed softly, “that is what I do.”

“But I loved you!” The words were so soft I had to strain to make them out over the crackling of the fire. Her body seemed to be folding in on itself as she slowly lowered to the floor. Her arms tightened across her midsection, her hands clenched into painfully tight fists. “I gave you myself, all that I was, I opened my soul to you. No one has ever known me the way that I wanted you to, nobody. Nobody deserved to.”

“And why did I merit such an honor?” Severus returned snidely, driving her to curl farther into herself, her entire body constricting under his displeasure. “I certainly don’t recall having posted a personals ad for an obsessive, murderous lunatic with delusions of grandeur. I hate to be the one to tell you this, but I have absolutely no interest in your soul, knowing it, sharing it, or any other activity your diseased brain may have dreamed up.”

“But...you....”

Snape’s voice took on the edge it usually assumed with recalcitrant, dull witted students, “Come now, you can’t tell me that you simply drew my name out of a hat. There must have been some impetus that started this whole ugly chain of events and brought us to this rather pathetic end.”

“You...you...understood.” The words seemed to be wrenched from her one by one. “You...recognized...me.”

“What in the name of all that’s holy are you talking about? I’ve never met you before tonight. One of life’s little blessings, I suppose.”

Mina’s body lost a bit of its tension, and she crawled closer to Snape’s prone form. “You don’t remember? How can you say that? How can you lie to me...to yourself?”

“I have absolutely no idea what you’re talking about. None.”

“The Advanced Potions Symposium, ten years ago, New York City.”

“Yes?” Severus sighed, sinking farther into the sofa wearily. “What of it?”

“You were there presenting a paper on the theoretical uses of banned potions in tactical warfare. It was brilliant...you were brilliant. Your ideas were so radical, so ingenious, and completely beyond the grasp of the vast majority of those attending. Most couldn’t appreciate your genius, but I could...I did. It was as if you were speaking solely to me. I’d never conceived of the power that you made obvious to me that day. By the simple combination of ingredients a person could do almost anything, anything at all. It was like a door opened to me that day, I finally understood that wand waving was a pathetic, inadequate form of magic. It was nothing compared to the power of potions mastery.”

“Let me see if I have this quite straight. You attended a lecture I gave ten years ago and from that leapt to the, and you’ll forgive me for this I hope, completely fucking mental conclusion that we were meant to be together. Do I have that right?”

Her face flushed with anger. “You can’t tell me that after all I’ve done, after all I’ve shown you that you aren’t the slightest bit impressed. That you don’t…Jesus, I did it all for you!”

“Then you did it all for nothing.”

“No.” The words sounded as if they were being ground between her teeth. “That’s not possible. That cannot be possible. You belong to me!”

“I hate to be the one to tell you this, but my heart, such as it is, has belonged to the same person for the past twenty odd years. Which you might have known had you actually bothered to speak to me before deciding I was the love of your life and you the love of mine.” His eyes rose slowly until he was staring quite obviously at the tiny hole in the bookcase. Until he was staring directly at me. My heart suddenly felt tight and uncomfortable in my chest. “He was the reason I abandoned the Death Eaters, you see. The reason for so many of my life’s decisions, both good and bad. Well, no, that’s not quite fair, I can’t really bring myself to blame him for my wretched mistakes.”

“Him?” Mina’s shoulders slumped visibly. “Him? You mean you’re…”

“A poof, yes, I’m afraid so my dear.”

“No. No!” she moaned, her hands covering her ears, nails digging into flesh. 

“You built a fantasy, a pretty little story to justify your very ugly murderous impulses. I’m afraid I must decline the role of romantic hero in this particular tale. Though I will admit I do have a few questions that you might answer for me. I am puzzled how you settled upon your victims. Particularly Longbottom and Parkinson. Why those two in particular?”

Glassy-eyed with shock, Mina’s voice was a monotone. “I knew the Longbottoms, Luna was…we knew one another. I’d visited their home several times, it was easy enough to enter it without their knowledge. And Neville’s love of fresh lemonade presented me with an obvious medium for the poison. It was almost…predestined.” She turned to look at Snape. “Do you believe in Fate, Severus? I do. I have always understood what destiny required of me. It’s always been so clear…so clear.”

“Enough of that drivel, I haven’t the time for your insanity. I want the facts, nothing more.”

“You know why they were targets, why they had to die. They were responsible for your imprisonment. They had to pay for that. They had to suffer.”

“Half the bloody wizarding world testified against me. Now answer the question. Why Parkinson?”

Mina brushed her hair back and sighed, “Everyone at the Ministry knew about her relationship with that Weasley girl, Molly made certain of that. The Ministry’s thick with fucking Weasleys, always underfoot, chattering on and on like magpies. Parkinson was weak and vulnerable, it was almost too easy.”

“You knew her tastes, introduced yourself at the Three Broomsticks, did you even bother with Polyjuice?”

“No. No one knew me there. I purchased a wig and made sure not to attract any unnecessary attention.”

“And Umbridge?”

“An Imperius on one of the wait staff serving the Daughters of Hecate. Not terribly complicated, I’m afraid. Disappointed?”

“That’s not precisely the word I would have chosen.” Severus drooped a bit further, his strength clearly ebbing. “I assume Fudge remained true to his lecherous reputation, you’re an attractive enough young woman, I’m sure he’d have found your attentions quite flattering.”

She bowed her head. “He was…an afterthought. I needed an easy way to put Shacklebolt off his guard.”

“You didn’t kill him?”

“No. I had no reason to. He’s in the back garden, unconscious but alive. I just wanted…I needed to see you before…”

“Before I died.” His voice was growing noticeably weaker.

“Yes,” she agreed, “before you died. Even if you had a bezoar it wouldn’t help you. You know that, don’t you?”

“I know that.”

My heart quite literally froze within my chest.

“You’re in a great deal of pain, aren’t you?” Mina knelt before him, her back to me. She ran a hand gently along his cheek. “Of course you are. It’s the ground glass. Your digestive system is going to be quite a mess. I can’t say I’m looking forward to your necropsy.” Her head tilted slowly to one side and she continued to stroke his face. “Although I think…I think I will keep your heart. If I couldn’t have it in life, I can at least have it in death.”

His dark eyes met hers. “You’re pathetic.”

“Don’t be unkind, Severus, or I’ll leave you to die on your own. You don’t want that, do you?”

“No, I don’t want that. Neither do I want you. But there is someone I’d like with me now.”

“Who? Your mysterious lover?”

“Not quite, I should like…Stubby Boardman, I think.”

Between one breath and the next realization hit me, but my body was already in motion. I had no plan, couldn’t even begin to summon up the necessary combination of words and will to stop the woman by means of magic. I did, however, have my cane.

I’d burst into the sitting room before Mina even had the chance to turn around. I hit her with enough force to lay her out flat. But it wasn’t enough, not nearly enough. Without a word or thought I lifted the cane again, only Severus’ voice halted the blow. “Stop, you fool, we need her alive!”

I was panting laboriously, it took all of my strength to slowly lower my arm. I tore my eyes from her and looked at Severus. “She was lying. You can…you can use the bezoar.”

His face was bloodless, but his eyes were steady and clear. “No, Lupin, she wasn’t lying. Now be so good as to take her wand.”

I ripped open her robe and removed her birch wand, then turned back to Severus. “You don’t know that. Just try the fucking bezoar.”

“I would,” he replied softly, “if I actually had a bezoar.”

“What?” His words weren’t making any sense to me. “What did you say?”

“It was a stone, from the garden. I had a bezoar once, but I’m afraid it was confiscated years ago, along with most of my possessions.”

“But you…you said…”

“I lied, Lupin. It’s not a terribly difficult concept to grasp.”

“Why? In Merlin’s name, why?”

“Freedom.” He was now lying on his side, his head resting on the arm of the sofa.

“I would’ve…Severus, I had no intention of leaving you here. I’d have done whatever it took to see that you received justice. Even Scrimgeour would have been forced to free you after the press discovered you’d all but single-handedly caught the poisoner!”

His lips quirked briefly. “I’m afraid I don’t have quite as much faith in the justice system as you seem to. I had to be certain. Completely certain. I will be free, Lupin, and I have you to thank for that.”

“No,” I moaned, “no.”

“I have you to thank for a great many things. A great many. Do something for me, Lupin.”

“What?” My voice was shaking so badly I almost didn’t recognize it.

“Go to the bookcase, pull out the edition of ‘Walking with Werewolves’ and bring me the documents you find behind it.”

It had become a habit to obey Severus, and I did so then without hesitation. I fetched the parchments quickly and returned to kneel before him. “Here.”

He pushed them weakly back towards me. “No, they’re for you.”

“Me?”

“Yes. One is a copy of my personal notes relating to the case. Use them, see to it that the truth becomes known, all of it, not just what Scrimgeour tells the media.”

“All…all right.”

“The other…” His voice was beginning to fade, and his eyes drooped alarmingly.

“Severus!”

My voice brought him around. “The other is the deed to this house. Do what you like with it. Keep it, if you wish, or sell it if you prefer. I don’t imagine it will bring you terribly much, but given the likelihood of your imminent unemployment, I suspect even a little will come in handy.”

I shook, suddenly feeling hot tears on my cheeks. “I can’t accept this. I don’t deserve…”

“Let me be the judge of what you deserve; you’ve never been terribly objective on the subject.” He seemed to be studying me carefully, his dark eyes taking in every line and feature of my face. “Of course, I’ve never been terribly objective regarding the subject of Remus John Lupin either, I’m afraid. If you only knew…” His hand slid over my own, resting on the edge of the sofa. “If you only knew how close you’d come to receiving a dose of Amortentia in your Pumpkin Juice on at least a dozen occasions when we were young. But it would have done no good, I recognized that even then. You couldn’t even see me, I was just a greasy shadow dogging your steps.”

All I could do was stare at him wordlessly.

“Oh there’s no time for this, and absolutely no point to it. You must do one more thing, just one, and I must have your promise. Your word Lupin, you will give me that.”

It wasn’t a question, but I nodded regardless. “You have my word Severus.”

“I wish to rest beside Albus. You will take me to his tomb, immediately, don’t allow those cretins at the Ministry to lay their hands on me. They’ll tell you they wish to run tests, discover the nature of the poison, obtain further evidence…in reality they’ll fill every wretched paper with gaudy photos of my corpse. And I won’t have that.” He paused to catch his breath, then continued even more softly, “When you arrive at the tomb speak the word ‘Aconite’. The door will open. There will be a stone platform to the right of Albus’ crypt; you will place me there. And you will do me the very great favor of placing a wand between my hands.” His words were so soft I had to lean forward to catch them at all. “I may not have lived these past few years as a wizard, but I should like to die as one. Consider it a final vanity, if you like. You will do this?”

“I will.”

“Thank you, Lupin. Thank you.” His eyes slid shut and he spoke once more. “Stay…just a little longer…please.”

“I’m here, Severus. I’m right here. And I do see you. I see you at last.”

He managed one final limp smile, his lips a ghastly shade of blue. I held his cool hand in both of mine and watched his chest rise and fall. Once. Twice. And then it stilled.

Severus Snape was dead.


	21. Chapter 21

Of course, in the end, everything was done precisely as he wished. The Aurors removed Ms. Wildersock and an attending Emergency medi-wizard declared the time and, with my assistance, the nature of Severus’ death. Fortunately, having been murdered by a coroner relieved the Ministry of the necessity of an autopsy.

I made Severus’ request clear and was assured that the Ministry would handle everything. He’d been right about that too. Well, I’d had quite a little experience getting round Ministry bureaucracy in the past few months, and I intended to put that knowledge to good use. I think it was a combination of experience, determination, and a complete lack of concern regarding my own welfare that impelled my next actions.

A few choice words regarding honor and duty to a fellow Order member were enough to win me Shacklebolt’s assistance. Jamie’s came with a very solemn and heartfelt threat on my part regarding the press getting wind of his part in the abuse Snape repeatedly suffered during his imprisonment. I was sorry to be forced to resort to it, but my priorities and path were clear.

Spiriting Snape’s body away was almost too easy. For all the interest the Ministry showed in the man while he was alive, they certainly seemed to lose it quickly enough once his body began to cool. I supposed that as soon as Scrimgeour realized he’d never get his hands on Albus’ money he did his level best to forget Severus had ever existed. And thankfully as he went, so went the Ministry.

We took him from Spinner’s End in the early hours of the morning, as soon as the Aurors had finished pawing through his belongings and turning the place topsy-turvy. Severus would’ve been horrified at the intrusion, not to mention the mess. I was simply annoyed by the pointlessness of it, what could they possibly hope to find? Were they looking for some link between him and Wildersock? Some incriminating evidence that would justify his years of imprisonment after the fact? Scrimgeour certainly couldn’t still believe that the key to Albus’ fortune was somewhere on the premises, nor that Severus would’ve left it anywhere the Minister might conceivably get his hands on it. I couldn’t quite dredge up the energy to ask them what they were after, and after a few hours they seemed to lose interest. 

Walking the grounds of Hogwarts under the light of the waning moon reminded me viciously of younger days running carefree and reckless with the Marauders. We’d taken such foolish risks, we might have been caught or seriously hurt, even killed someone; providence had smiled on us time and time again. Sometimes I wondered if I hadn’t used up every ounce of good luck I’d been allotted in my life during those wild full moon romps. It seemed all too apparent to me that James and Sirius had. 

The grass crackled beneath my feet like an electric charge, it was still too early for snow, but only just. I could hear the soft lapping of the lake and the occasional disturbance of the water as the giant squid surfaced to enjoy the moonlight. Kingsley marched silently beside me, a stoic honor guard of sorts, beside Severus’ levitating body. Jamie sulked a bit, but kept an eye on our backs and his mouth shut, which was all I could ask of him.

The white marble tomb stood just where it had since the day it had so miraculously appeared at Albus’ funeral. 

I moved forward, away from my escort, and placed a hand on the door of the tomb. It was bitterly cold, and for a moment, just a moment, I couldn’t bring myself to imagine leaving Severus in such a place. He’d always kept his fire lit, making Spinner’s End warm and oddly welcoming. What would he think of an eternity spent in the frigid gloom of this shared grave? Would resting beside his mentor, his savior, and his friend be sufficient?

I couldn’t help thinking that a pyre would be more appropriate. 

It wasn’t, of course, my decision to make. But beyond that I’d made a promise. With a deep breath, I softly sighed, “Aconite.” The door moved with a grinding rumble, and I was overwhelmed by the scent of stale air, dust and decay. 

Coughing, I waited for the fresher air to rush in before taking a few, timid steps beyond the door. The interior was small, but not as dark as I’d expected. The white marble almost seemed to glow, slowly I realized it wasn’t the tomb itself glowing, rather the silver coffin that held Albus Dumbledore’s body. 

I moved toward it almost without thought. A strange sense of calm came over me then, the same quiet peace I’d always felt in Dumbledore’s presence. Reaching out, I ran my fingertips over the intricate script etched into the coffin’s surface. Albus Dumbledore was so much more than the contents of this tomb, more than the portrait in the Headmaster’s office that spoke and smiled with twinkling eyes, and yet all we had left of him were these objects. Things, just things. And now that was all that remained of Severus as well.

I turned then and swept my wand before me. The Wingardium Leviosa spell obediently followed my gesture and carried Severus’ body into the chamber. I noticed belatedly that just beyond Albus’ coffin was another marble platform. I moved toward it reluctantly, Severus floating silently behind me. I’d wrapped him in the only black robe that remained to him. It was dusty and faded from disuse, but it made him appear almost regal. 

Jamie’s voice behind me nearly made me jump out of my skin, “We should go, it’s not safe here, Remus.”

“In a moment.”

“But Remus, if we get caught…”

“I said in a moment, Jamie.” My tone was a little sharper than it should have been, especially given the fact that Jamie was risking a great deal in accompanying me. And he was quite right, this was risky. Taking a deep breath, I turned to face both Jamie and Kingsley who stood framed in the dark doorway. “There’s no reason for the two of you to remain here. I’ll be leaving myself as soon as I’ve…Well, in a few minutes.”

Shacklebolt’s face was unreadable. “Take care of yourself, Remus.”

“I will, Kingsley, thank you.”

With that he disappeared into the night leaving only Jamie, pale and uncertain, standing uncomfortably at the tomb’s entrance. “This is…well, it’s not how I ever imagined this all would end.”

“What do you mean, Jamie?”

“Snape…I s’pose I always thought he was too surly to die, you know?” He shifted nervously and cast a glance over his shoulder into the darkness beyond. “He deserved a funeral, I mean he’d earned that much, hadn’t he?”

I gazed over at the body hovering beside me sadly. “Do you honestly think Scrimgeour would have allowed it? Severus certainly didn’t. This is what he wanted, Jamie. It’s the least I can do for him.”

“It just doesn’t seem right somehow.”

“I think,” I found myself choking up unexpectedly, “I think that all the people who meant something to him are here right now, Jamie. That’s what’s really important, don’t you think?”

He managed a weak smile and nodded, producing a flask from an inner pocket of his robes. Holding it aloft he muttered, “To Severus Snape, you were a moody old git, but you had excellent taste in liquor and men.” The look he gave me caused my cheeks to burn rather unexpectedly. Had Severus told him about his feelings for me? No, that was beyond unlikely, but perhaps it had been apparent to everyone else all this time and only I was too blind to see it.

“You should go now, Jamie.”

“I’ll see you around then?”

“I hope so.” Frankly, though I’d never voice it aloud, I thought it rather more likely that I’d end up in a cell for at least a year or two after that night’s actions. The thought didn’t fill me with the kind of dread it might have done before. ‘Was this,’ I wondered, gazing again at the now peaceful face of Severus Snape, ‘how he felt years ago when Albus offered him a chance at redemption? That any price he had to pay would be sufficient if, just this once, he could do the right thing for the right reasons?’

I shook my head, now was not the time to try to work out the labyrinthine psyche that had been the foundation of Severus Snape. When I glanced back towards the doorway Jamie was gone. I hoped that somehow he’d manage to make it through this mess with his career, such as it was, intact. He was a good lad, he didn’t deserve to suffer for the Minister’s petty vendetta against Severus. If he kept his head down and his mouth shut he might be all right.

It wasn’t the time to lose myself in such thoughts, I still had a duty to perform, a very important one at that. “Well Severus,” I said, lowering his body gently to the marble platform, “would you ever have believed that of all of us, I would be the last left alive? It’s rather like some bizarre joke, isn’t it? The frailest of the lot, weak, tired and ill…yet here I am.” I reached out to settle his hands on his chest. They were so white and cool, almost as if they’d been carved out of marble as well. Laying my hand on top of his, I murmured, “You should have told me, Severus, you shouldn’t have waited until all that was left for me was to give you a decent burial. It isn’t fair, it really isn’t.” I fingered the silvered strands in his otherwise sable hair for a long moment, then traced the strong line of his jaw.

Reaching inside my own robes, I withdrew Sirius’ old wand. I considered breaking it in two, it was tradition after all, but I’d made a promise. I had my instructions, and as I’d done since the beginning of this whole odd mystery, I intended to follow them to the letter. I placed it carefully under his hands and took a step back.

“Now what do I do? You never told me that, Severus. What’s left for me?” I hugged myself in the chill of the tomb, part of me almost tempted to just shut the door and stay here with the two of them. I felt certain Albus wouldn’t mind. But Severus…I could almost imagine his disgusted sneer. He’d call me pathetic, or worse, and he’d be right. 

I’d do what I always had; I’d keep going. Somehow I would find the strength to begin again. I had no other choice.

Nodding to myself, I bid Severus a silent farewell and left the tomb. Once outside I whispered, “Aconite.” The shuddering grind of the stone and the gentle splashing of the lake were the only sounds that broke the silence.

\--

The first few days after the resolution of the case were a bit overwhelming. The press was ravenous for details, and they hounded everyone even remotely associated with it. Fortunately, the only person who knew of my involvement was Rita Skeeter, and she was sensible enough to keep that information to herself in exchange for an exclusive interview. I saw no reason to deny her, though I ultimately told her little more than Severus had.

I spent more than a week being interrogated by the Aurors as well, including a rather taxing hour under the influence of Veritaserum. They managed to drag the details of my promise to Severus from me, but despite their best efforts the tomb refused to open again. As I had no understanding of the spells involved in its creation I could offer them no information on how to bypass it.

Ultimately Minerva was forced to intercede, and through her solicitors, served the Ministry with an injunction. She didn’t give a damn about Severus resting in peace, but it was clear she’d be damned before she’d let anyone disturb Albus. Scrimgeour was already on politically shaky ground because of his mishandling of the case, he couldn’t afford the publicity nightmare surrounding the public desecration of the burial place of a War hero. He dropped his attempts to locate Severus’ body after that.

It seemed rather likely that I would bear the full brunt of his displeasure until Hermione Granger interceded. Her office supplied me with a surprisingly competent and driven young solicitor who specialized in Lycanthrope law. After the Daily Prophet story ran on the front page all but proclaiming me the unsung hero of the case, the Ministry beat a hasty retreat.

Finally I was allowed to go home and return to what remained of my normal life.

I packed up my clothing and books in my old trunk and moved out of my flat. It was more pragmatism than anything else, I was sure Dora would have had no objection to my remaining there for as long as I’d liked. However, with no income, I simply couldn’t afford to stay; and I couldn’t find it in me to live on Dora’s generosity. 

And so I found myself once again in the little house in Spinner’s End. I had a little money tucked away, enough to keep body and soul together for a few weeks without any other income. What was to become of me after that, only the Fates could tell.

Time passed slowly. I couldn’t bring myself to return to the Ministry, and I generally avoided wizarding society as much as possible. I’d attained a degree of notoriety that was both unwelcome and uncomfortable. Not all of it was negative, of course. Indeed I had several lucrative offers to publish the complete story of my involvement in the case. Somehow, though, it didn’t feel quite right to earn a living on the deaths of so many others.

Not even the imminent threat of complete poverty could convince me that it was right. 

The money ran out at the end of the month, and I faced the full moon with an empty stomach and a growing sense of dread. I hadn’t been able to face the line at the Beings Office, and so I’d holed up in Spinner’s End trying to convince myself that everything would work out if I just remained safely locked away there.

But as the day continued, I grew more and more uneasy. What if my spells failed? What if a ravenous Moony somehow managed to escape in the middle of this innocent Muggle town?

The thought impelled me to Apparate to the outskirts of Hogsmeade. There was only one safe place to ride out this transformation. The Shrieking Shack.


	22. Chapter 22

I came back to myself slowly some time after dawn. The pain was overpowering, a deep unending well that I seemed unable to escape. The day passed in a haze of agony, hunger and biting cold.

I’m not certain how long I slept after that, I have only vague recollections of the period. Finally I managed to drag myself to an old mattress against one of the walls. With a start, I realized it must have been the very same one that had once caught Severus’ fall so many years earlier. I could almost see Harry, Hermione and Ron crouched near the opposite wall and Sirius stalking around intent on exacting his revenge on Wormtail.

I pulled what once had been a curtain over my naked, bruised body and curled in on myself. I wasn’t entirely sure which was worse, the brutal beating I’d taken from the transformation or the endless pool of memories that threatened to drag me into despair. Fortunately I was far too exhausted and weak to do more than cry myself to sleep at that point.

Sometime the next day I dragged on my clothing, which had been safely in the next room along with my wand, and tried to decide what to do next. Should I return to Spinner’s End and reconsider the publisher’s offers? Severus had certainly made it clear that he had no objection to his notes being used to do just that. Perhaps I could sell the house and take what monies that raised for me to begin again somewhere else.

Sadly, neither option seemed terribly appealing. And what could I possibly do in the short-term? I had nothing on which to survive, and perhaps more alarmingly, very little desire left to do so. Perhaps I should just stay in the Shack and let my strength slowly ebb away. It would be so easy, so peaceful. I sat down at a small table and lowered my head down onto it. I was so tired, so bloody tired.

I felt a presence in the room long before I heard a footfall, or so much as a soft sigh of breath. My back stiffened but I didn’t move, couldn’t move, couldn’t so much as turn my head or raise my eyes from my folded hands. They were calloused, the fingers long but blunt, the nails ragged where once they’d been smooth and even. 

A voice spoke then, a voice I knew I could not be hearing, a voice that could not be. “A Slytherin,” the tone was so terrifyingly familiar, so dark and rich, like a classical cello, “always collects on his debts.”

I shuddered and ever so slowly raised my hands to my face. This couldn’t be happening, it just couldn’t be. “No.” It was all I could manage, that and that alone.

“Bloody hell, Lupin, shall I get you a room beside Mrs. Longbottom then? Stop acting like the damned heroine in a Muggle dime novel. Turn around you fool, and look at me.”

There were so many reasons not to obey, to just keep telling myself that I was imagining it all. If I turned, if I looked...if I saw I would have to admit that he was real. And yet, an equal fear gripped me, what if this specter should vanish and leave me all alone again? I did the only thing I could, of course, I turned around.

He was standing there, right there in the doorway, as solid and real as anyone I had ever seen. He gazed back at me from a stranger’s eyes, no longer the color of obsidian, but green of all things. His long raven hair was trimmed short, close to his scalp, and had changed to a steely silver-gray. Gone was the mortuary garb, replaced with a casual gray jumper and denim slacks. Were it not for his nose, that enormous, elegant, absurd feature I wouldn’t have known him at all just by looking at him. But there it was, just as it had always been since we were little boys together at Hogwarts.

“About time, it’s fucking freezing in here.” He rubbed his long, slender hands together and stepped further into the room. With a long slow swish of his wand I felt the temperature begin to rise. My sluggish blood began to move through my veins once more, and my hands and feet went entirely pins and needles. But my heart, ah that remained cold and still for several more minutes. Then so quickly that I scarcely realized it had happened, I was flushed with an intense and all consuming heat.

“You…you heartless fuck.” I panted, as if I’d just finished a marathon. 

Snape smirked and leaned on the table beside me. “Honestly, Lupin, you‘re such a **girl** sometimes.”

To this day I don’t know if it was his words, his cocksure attitude of superiority, or my own nerves shattering into a million glass-like shards; whatever the cause, I flew at him like a man possessed, a wild, crazed beast. I had no full moon to blame for it, I’m quite ashamed to say, only the profound certainty that if I didn’t pummel Severus into a bloody lump I really should go completely round the bend.

“You bastard, you bloody bastard! You…” I hit him with each word, and then several more times for good measure, and he let me, far more patiently than I would have expected him to. “You let me think…I can’t believe you…I hate you!” I hit him again with both fists in the dead center of his bony chest and he gave a soft chuff of pain. “You let me think you were…you were dead! You used me, you used me all along. Bastard!”

I felt my wrists grabbed roughly and hauled up over my head as my back and head connected with the cold, hard wall. He was so impossibly strong, I would never understand how a man could be so slim and still manage to toss me around like a rag doll. His breath traced my cheek and jaw like a caress, “Remus…”

My own breathing stopped, and my heartbeat was pounding in my chest and ears. I wanted to hold onto the anger, I was afraid of what would be left behind if I lost my grip. I felt like I was on the edge of a chasm, it was yawning there just at my feet and only Severus’ grasp kept me from tumbling in.

He leaned in closer, his nose brushing through my hair. “How is that possible?” he asked so softly that I almost didn’t hear his words over the beat of my heart. “Even here, now, looking like hell on toast your hair still smells of sunshine...”

I leaned my head as far from him as I could manage under the circumstances, furious with myself for wanting nothing more than to burst into tears and beg him to hold me. It was a ridiculous impulse, and it left me feeling far more disconcerted than my previous murderous rage. “You got what you wanted from me, you son of a bitch, so what are you doing here?”

“Oh,” he breathed warm against my throat, “I haven’t quite got what I wanted from you just yet, Remus. But I expect to, I promise you that. You do still owe me, after all.”

I couldn’t suppress the shudder that ran through me then, much as I wished to. “I helped you to escape, didn’t I? I was your useful idiot, duped into playing your little game. Just...just tell me how you survived...I don’t...”

He smiled then, and there was no contempt in it, which profoundly startled me. “Do we really need to discuss it in this horrible place? I can think of somewhere much more comfortable. Will you come with me?”

I found my hands lowered and released quite unexpectedly, and I all but fell against him. I gave an undignified squeak when I realized he was hard. I found it both terrifying and intoxicating, but even more profoundly confusing. “Where are we...where are we going?”

The smirk was back with a vengeance. “Does it really matter?”

I paused and pulled reluctantly away from him. “I...I suppose not.”

“Good,” he pulled me close to him again. “Just hold on.”

Frowning, I muttered, “You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?”

“Immensely,” he replied, Apparating us both away from the Shack with a soft pop.

We reappeared in what seemed to be a well-appointed hotel room. There was a small sitting area, a king sized bed, and a white marble lavatory. The burgundy curtains were shut tight, and a small Muggle electric lamp lit the room with a soft glow. The furnishings and carpet were a restrained cream, and everything looked intensely comfortable. I pulled away from my companion and made a move to lower myself into one of the chairs, but Severus called out to my sharply, “Don’t you dare. You’re filthy and this room is quite dear.” He moved into the restroom and I soon heard a rush of water. Bustling out with sleeves rolled up to his elbows, Severus commanded imperiously, “Right, out of those clothes and into the tub. There’s a robe on the back of the door you can use for this evening.”

I just stood blinking at him stupidly, unsure how I’d come to be in a posh Muggle hotel with a formerly dead Potions Master turned criminal, turned crime fighting genius. And it seemed that his first order of business was getting me out of my clothes. It was wrong, deeply and profoundly wrong of me, but I actually felt a bit of a thrill at the thought. Was he just being pragmatic, or was the man actually seducing me? And if it was the latter, how did I intend to respond? I honestly wasn’t sure. “Um...Severus...I could just...”

“You could just do as you’re told, Remus. Come along, you can’t tell me you enjoy being so dirty and uh, ripe, when there’s a perfectly divine bathtub with your name on it.”

“A tub?”

“Mmm, claw-footed if you can believe it.”

“Bubble bath?”

“Afraid not, however I did discover this wonderful little place called Lush just around the corner. I used one of their ‘bath bombs’. Smells rather like Honeyduke’s just before All Hallow’s Eve.”

“Really?” I took an involuntary step towards him.

“Really.” His voice had gone all husky and seductive in the span of a single word. Well, that certainly answered that.

“I...uh...Severus, I’m not quite sure what you have in mind...”

“Liar.” He leaned against the door frame almost casually, then looked up at me from under his dark lashes. “You know precisely what I have in mind. The door is right over there, just unlock it and walk out of here if you wish. Otherwise get your ass in here and into that tub before I start to lose patience with you.”

I took another slow step towards him, though my eyes strayed to the room’s door. What remained for me beyond it? Hadn’t I discovered just that in the past few weeks? Did I truly want to return to the pointlessness of my recent existence, alone, jobless, empty, without prospects or hope? Then again, what kind of a future was Severus offering instead? Was he even offering a future? And ultimately, did I care? “I feel I should tell you that I’ve never...I mean, I’ve never been with...with a man before.”

“Well then,” he sighed after a long pause, “that should make things very interesting.”

I looked up at him quickly, searching his eyes and face for any hint of mockery or distaste. I found no trace of either. No, he was being quite sincere, and before I knew it I’d taken a step closer to him, and then another. Soon I was leaning against him, he was so warm and so very real. But only for a moment, no longer, before he pushed me away firmly but gently. I looked up, a bit hurt and puzzled.

He only smiled and cupped my cheek. “Into the tub.”

“Before I do that I...I have to know one thing.” 

“Only one thing?” He still sounded amused, I took that as a good sign.

“Yes. For now, just one thing.” I met his unfamiliar eyes, wondering how long it would take me to grow accustomed to them. “You must tell me the truth, Severus, in this one thing you must be completely honest. I have to know.”

One now silvered eyebrow shot up, and the humor drained from his face. Finally he said, “Very well, ask.”

I took a deep breath. I knew that the remainder of my entire life might well be decided by his answer. No, I corrected myself quickly, he would not be deciding the direction of my life, I would decide. His answer was simply the final piece of the puzzle I required to make an informed decision, that was all. I didn’t have anything to lose by knowing the truth, and so I asked, “I see now that you used the situation to make good a carefully considered and well executed escape. It also seems clear to me that you played me rather expertly, and I was a thoroughly reliable dupe, following a path you laid out for me.” When he seemed about to interrupt, I forestalled him quickly. “No, let me finish this. I can’t pretend that I’m pleased about being your patsy, but I’ll be the first to admit I’d never have gone along with your plot. I also see now that you used Mina, in your own way, just as effectively. But what I need to know is this, how far did it go?”

“What are you asking me?” His expression was downright grave.

“Did you...did you have anything to do with these murders?”

“What you want to know is whether the murders themselves were a part of some even grander scheme. If I somehow orchestrated the entire situation in order to escape from Ministry captivity rather than simply making use of an opportunity when it presented itself. Is that about right?”

I nodded, I’d said enough, the rest was up to him.

Leaning back against the door jam once again he seemed to study me for a few moments. It was almost as if I were the one who had undergone an amazing physical transformation rather than him. He folded his arms across his chest and softly said, “I suppose I could tell you to go and ask Wildersock that question, but it would rather put a crimp in my plans for the evening.”

I rolled my eyes and muttered an annoyed, “Severus...”

“To answer your question, I have been many things in my life, student, acolyte, traitor, spy, killer...yes, that too, I don’t deny it. Unlike some, I’ve never embraced hypocrisy with open arms. I won’t try to convince you that I wouldn’t be capable of such a thing if I deemed it necessary. I will, however, point out that I’d have to be mad to put my faith in a woman unstable enough to actually undertake a murder spree at my request. I might kill with my own hands, but trust someone else to do so for me? The risk is staggering, the chance of success slim to none. It simply won’t do, Remus.” He smiled slightly, and for the first time that I could remember, it even reached those odd gray green eyes of his. “At any rate, if it had been my plan I can assure you that Potter and Scrimgeour would’ve been amongst the bodies. Indeed, as we speak their families and friends would be engaged in public lamentations. They’d certainly have been rather higher on my list than Parkinson and Longbottom.”

“True,” I agreed with a reluctant laugh.

“So, I wouldn’t have achieved revenge upon anyone of any consequence to me, nor would her actions have directly freed me in any way. I’m really failing to see what I would have had to gain out of all of this.” He paused and looked at me quite seriously. “I can stand here all night giving you one reason after another why your supposition makes absolutely no sense, and why I wouldn’t engage in anything so immoral or flatly illogical. Ultimately, though, you must ask yourself if you truly believe me to have been behind these murders. If you can’t tell me flat out right now that you believe me, that you have no remaining doubts…well, it would perhaps be best if you simply left. Now.”

“I…I believe you, Severus.”

“In that case, it would appear that you’re stalling, Remus. There is a tub mere meters from you that is full of hot, scented water that any sane man would be knocking me down to plunge himself into. And yet here you stand. Explain that to me, because quite frankly I’m finding it impossible to fathom.”

I chuckled and shook my head. “You’re right, Severus, I don’t know what I was thinking.” I gazed up at him shyly. “There’s a dressing gown on the door then?”

“Yes,” he returned succinctly, “but you won’t be needing it.”

“I won’t?” I must have sounded like a child to him.

“No. And don’t bother locking the door either. Just get those clothes off and leave them piled on the floor. I’ll be in momentarily.”

“In?”

Snape smiled, but oddly there was no hint of condescension in it. “Do two things for me tonight, Remus, the first is to relax, the second is simply obey me.”

I wasn’t at all sure that I liked the sound of that, and yet there was something oddly appealing about it at the same time. I wanted him to make all the decisions, to guide me, because I certainly had no experience with…well, men. But I didn’t want to be ordered about like a simpleton either.

While I stood dithering Severus took me very gently by the shoulders, leaned closer and placed a soft kiss on my forehead. I felt my knees go a little weak and I think I forgot to breathe. “Allow me to remind you that I’ve already admitted that I adore you, that I’ve all but bloody worshiped you since we were children together. Regardless of what happens between us tonight you have the power here. You can control me with a single word. Do you know what that word is?”

I shook my head wordlessly.

His voice was so soft that I almost thought I’d felt the words rather than heard them. “The word is ‘No’, simply say it at any point and the evening ends with no anger, no recriminations. I will obey you utterly, but allow me to guide you, trust me and I won’t fail you. Can you trust me, Remus?”

Frankly at that point I’d have happily followed him wandless into Voldemort’s lair. Somehow I tore my eyes away from his and walked into the large, well-appointed bathroom. It was white but not antiseptically so, and carpeted which I’ve always thought was an unnecessary decadence. Bathrooms were meant to be, well, wet really. They must have had to change the flooring in there every few months. I stood staring at it stupidly for several minutes until I felt two strong, but gentle hands slide from my mid-back up and over my shoulders.

“That water isn’t getting any warmer.” 

I leaned back into Severus’ touch, letting it steady and focus me for a moment longer. This was real, it was all really happening and I was choosing to let it happen. He was alive and here…and Merlin help me, he wanted me. Or, at least he thought he did, perhaps he’d think quite differently before the night was through.

I knew I was thinking too much but I couldn’t seem to stop myself. “S-Severus, I…”

He sighed with mild annoyance and moved in front of me to unbutton my robes. I watched him like a toddler incapable of fathoming the intricacies of something as complex as simple fastenings. Carefully, he removed the robes and tossed them into a pile near the toilet. My shirt and pants quickly followed and he eyed them critically. “I don’t suppose you’d allow me to do away with them, would you? They’re dreadful.”

That snapped me out of my stupor. “Don’t you dare! Those are my best robes.”

“Yes, I thought you might say that. Very well,” his lip curled in disgust as he muttered a hasty, “Wingardium Leviosa.” With that he levitated the soiled pile out of the room. “I think you can manage the rest, but if you should need my help…” he said over his shoulder as he followed the clothing back out into the bedroom.

I shut the door behind him, but I was quite careful not to lock it.


	23. Chapter 23

The tub was every bit as delicious as he’d promised me, long and deep and filled to the brim with water that smelled like sheer bliss. Sweet, sugar-coated bliss. Was that a hint of chocolate? The heat worked its way through my bruised and sore muscles, all the way through to my aching bones. I was quite convinced it would take a herd of Thestrals to drag me from it. I was so lost in the sheer, hedonistic pleasure that I never even heard the bathroom door open.

“That’s better.” Severus was leaning on the door frame gazing at me with just a hint of a smirk playing at the corners of his lips. “Still, I think there’s something missing.”

“I suppose I could use a sponge, or perhaps a rubber ducky.” I was feeling surprisingly cheeky.

“I think I can do better than that.” He pulled a chair into the room and then fetched a small basin and pitcher. I watched him in absolute fascination, completely unable to fathom what he was up to. When he pulled both around behind me I craned my neck to watch him, but was quickly told, “Stop that.”

I sat a bit uncomfortably, uncertain what to do or what was about to happen. With exquisite gentleness he guided my head back and over the basin then poured warm water over my hair. I was leaning back far enough to gaze up at him and grin. “You’re washing my hair?”

“It needs it,” he returned, lathering my hair efficiently. His fingers worked over my scalp almost tenderly, the sensation was downright intoxicating. It made me feel oddly safe. “Honestly, Remus, a few weeks without me to look after you and you fall to pieces. It’s really quite sad. Mind your eyes.”

I shut them quickly before he began to pour more water over my head. “Careful, you’ll wash all that sunshine and fresh air out.”

“Not possible, but keep that sass mouth I prefer it to the sheer, unmitigated terror you were displaying earlier.”

“I never!”

“You did.”

"Tell me something..."

"I thought you only had the one question, which I might add, I've already answered to your satisfaction."

I frowned and muttered, "I was mistaken, humor me."

"Very well, ask."

"How, precisely, did you know that it was the killer rather than me who arrived at your home earlier in the day?"

Severus turned his attention back to rinsing out my hair and for a moment I didn't think he'd answer. Finally he said, "First and foremost you'd made it clear that nothing short of a full scale Death Eater attack was likely to pry you from your bed that day. Second, there were certain mannerisms that, while close to yours, were off just enough to raise my suspicions. Third..."

"Third?"

He sighed and blotted away the remaining water from my face with great tenderness. "Third, I saw something in his...or I should say, her eyes that didn't belong in yours."

"Psychosis?" I prompted playfully.

"Love." He said it with a complete lack of inflection, as if he were reading off a mundane ingredient for a particularly uninteresting potion. I looked away, a bit guilty, as he continued. "I was quite certain at that point that it was the killer rather than you, and I confirmed it by casually referring to Stubby Boardman as an acquaintance of mine. When he, or rather she, was completely oblivious to the reference I knew all I needed to and acted accordingly." He lowered the basin to the floor and began to gently dry my hair with the towel. Undoubtedly a spell would've been just as effective and far more efficient, but Severus seemed to be enjoying the physical contact. "It was simple enough to avoid actually ingesting any of the poisoned champagne while appearing to do just that. I feigned fatigue to send her on her way and kept the remains of the bottle to analyze. It wasn't a terribly complex poison, far from it, I had to admire the simplicity. The glass shavings were a particularly nice touch."

"But what about the blood? I mean you honestly looked as if you were at death's door!"

"I gave myself a rather nasty cut on the inside of my cheek, right along the jaw line which bled quite satisfactorily. The rest was down to a bit of my mother's cosmetics and my own theatrics. I must say as death scenes go I was quite pleased with mine. I thought I played it rather well."

"Rather too well," I growled. "I was positively sick with guilt, you know."

He smiled down at me. "That's why I'm here. I hadn't expected you to...fall apart quite so impressively."

"Did you actually think I'd just shrug the whole thing off and go on about my business?"

"Yes I did, had you given me any reason to think otherwise?"

That question took me aback slightly. Had I? Had I said or done anything to indicate to Severus that I cared for him, given him any reason to believe that my interest in him went farther than the necessities of the case? In all honesty I had to admit that I'd done nothing at all explicit, but I'd thought we had at least developed a degree of camaraderie.

I wasn’t quite prepared to delve into that question any further at the moment, and fortunately my mind presented me with a new line of inquiry. “Severus, I’m assuming you used a variation of the Draught of Living Death in order to feign your demise…”

“Of course,” he cut in lightly, “that was the real reason I required the sopophorous beans. As much as it pains me to admit this I used Ms. Wildersock’s rather clever method of time delay, imbibing the Draught when I followed you into the living room. If you’d bothered to read the book I gave you, you’d have sussed out my plot on your own, I might add.”

“You’re joking.”

“I’m not, when you have a few moments read ‘The Case of the Dying Detective’, it’s all right there.”

“That was a bit of a risk, wasn’t it? I mean what if I’d gone to the authorities?”

He shrugged carelessly. “A calculated risk, to be sure, but I couldn’t quite resist.”

A thought suddenly hit me and I blurted it out, startled that it hadn’t occurred to me earlier, “Severus how are you possibly affording all of this?” I raised a dripping hand to gesture around the bathroom.

“Ah, well if you’ll recall I did mention Albus had left me his fortune.”

“Scrimgeour! You said he wanted you to give it to him and you’d refused.”

“Precisely.” He continued to rub my damp hair with the deliciously warm towel. “He’d set aside a tidy little sum for me in a Gringott’s vault, I was given the key shortly before I…before his demise. I never truly believed I’d live long enough to collect it, but I’m a pragmatist at heart and kept the key close at hand just in case. It’s quite fortunate that I did or we’d be huddling together in that miserable little shack.”

“But where did you keep it?” I lifted my hand to push the towel aside so I could see his face. “I mean weren’t you rather thoroughly searched?”

“I transfigured it.” When he could clearly see that I wasn’t following him, he smirked and gestured to his now short, silver hair.

I stared at him wordlessly for several moments, then it hit me like a stinging hex. “That lock of silver hair, oh Severus that’s…well that’s bloody brilliant.”

“Damned right it was.”

“But how could you be sure you’d be able to successfully transfigure it back?”

“I wasn’t nearly as worried about that as I was that someone else would glean my little ruse. I suppose I needn’t have bothered given the general intelligence level of my foes in the Ministry. Short of making the silver hair key-shaped, I doubt it would’ve occurred to anyone to even begin to suspect what I’d done. That strikes me as rather depressing, really.” With a sigh he chucked the smaller towel aside and got to his feet. “Right, you’ve stewed quite long enough, the water’s gone tepid. Out you get.”

“But…” I wasn’t entirely sure why I was objecting, he was quite right, and my fingers had even gone all pruney. All that remained of the plentiful bubbles was a thin, pathetic skin of froth that looked more like a pitiful pint than an inviting bath.

He gave me a bemused look and one eyebrow arched provocatively. “Well if you’d really rather sit there all evening I suppose that’s your choice, but I can assure you that while the bathroom is, without question, quite divine, the bedroom is far superior in a great many ways. I’d be happy to enumerate them for you, even offer you a guided tour if you’d like.”

I blushed furiously and curled into myself. “I’ll…I’ll be out shortly.” When he didn’t move, I added, “If you’d just step outside…”

Severus rolled his eyes and muttered, “Honestly Remus, it’s not as if I haven’t seen you naked before.”

“When?”

“We did share a bathroom for several years at Hogwarts. You obviously didn’t notice me but I can assure you that I very much noticed you.” He picked up one of the obscenely decadent looking towels from the rack, and held it wide in his arms. “Now come along, don’t dawdle.”

“I can, actually, manage that on my own you know.” I grumbled, climbing to my feet almost defiantly.

“Now where’s the fun in that?”

I stepped out of the tub gingerly and made a grab for the towel, but he only pulled it out of reach with a smirk. “Am I meant to stand here and drip dry?”

“Half right,” he returned moving towards me and wrapping me in warm, soft, cotton heaven. “Just be still and I’ll have you all dried off in a moment.”

“I really can do that you know, you don’t have to…”

Severus began to rub my arms and chest briskly. “Has anyone ever told you,” he muttered, more to himself than me, I thought, “that you talk entirely too much?”

“If this is meant to be foreplay your technique could use a bit of work.”

Moving down my body with efficiency, I began to feel more than just dry, rather increasingly warm and…excited. “Could it?” His fingers began to work on my thighs, then calves and feet. All too soon, though, he worked his way back up and I stiffened as he tenderly but firmly cupped my balls through the towel. “Could it really?”

My breath came in stuttering gasps for a moment, his touch was both intensely intimate and oddly clinical at once. I’d never been handled in quite that way before. I could hear little above the hammering of my own heart, and feel nothing but Severus’ lingering touch. My emotions, however, lacked that simplicity and clarity, they darted around never lingering long enough for me to quite grasp and identify them.

As if sensing my confusion, Severus drew away from me at last, returned to his feet, and neatly hung the towel up to dry. Then he turned to face me, his expression carefully neutral, and said, “Shall I give you that tour now?”

I hesitated, suddenly uncertain that I wanted anything further to happen between us. To be quite brutally honest, I’d never even entertained the idea of being attracted to Severus. Certainly I’d felt momentary…impulses around him. He was a powerful, charismatic man and I’d always been a bit weak in the knees for that kind of strength and authority. But was a purely physical response enough?

Perhaps if I let my mind wander towards more familiar territory. I couldn’t quite bring myself to use Dora to that end, for a variety of reasons. However, I’d spent more than a few years of my life happily and quietly lusting after Sirius Black. And after all, there was at least a little similarity between the two…

Severus’ now unfamiliar eyes were locked on mine before I was even conscious of it. I knew, without a solitary doubt, that he was using Legilimency and that he’d read everything I’d just been thinking. My entire body tensed, would he toss me out on my ear after a few blistering, caustic denigrations? Or would his gentle touches turn rough and violent?

Shockingly, he simply continued to gaze at me, waiting patiently for a response. Had I been wrong? Was I simply being paranoid? No, I’d seen the knowledge there in his eyes if only for a moment. He knew, he had to, and yet he wasn’t saying a word. This silence was a bit more unnerving than a full-fledged tantrum would have been. It struck me as somehow, ominous.


	24. Chapter 24

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> *Warning - there be sexy times ahead. If slash squicks you this is your stop, please exit the fic to your right. And there will be a few notes at the very end so you may want to stick around for the end credits.

Fear was certainly a prime motivator at the time, and it nearly caused me to ask for my clothing and go. But I’ve always been a little too curious for my own good, and at the moment it was eating me alive. That wasn’t my only motivator, I’d experienced several endless weeks utterly alone, without hope or purpose…I wouldn’t willingly return to that. It was profoundly selfish of me to be sure, but somehow I didn’t find myself overwhelmed with guilt as I’d expected. With a deep breath, I finally said, “Yes, I think I’d like that tour now.”

Severus’ lips quirked fleetingly, then taking two steps closer to me, he let his fingers trace my jaw. They continued down my throat, across my collarbone, and left a fiery wake down my abdomen. My breath hitched as his hand moved even lower, and with exquisite care, encircled my penis. “You can stop this at any time,” his words were spoken softly against my throat. “But if you’ll trust me…just trust me…”

I managed a shaky nod and swallowed roughly.

With that, his touch became a bit firmer, and turning slightly, he began to lead me by the shaft out of the bathroom. I felt ensnared, as if I were on a leash. It put me in an immediately submissive state, but I found myself welcoming it. 

Severus guided me onto the bed, and pushed me onto my back. He moved me into the center and then lay down on his side next to me. It was decidedly odd to be in bed, naked, beside a fully dressed man. Releasing my shaft, he propped his chin on his left fist and began running his other hand over my body. At first he seemed to simply be enjoying the sensation of skin on skin, then I realized he was very carefully tracing my numerous scars. I felt intensely self-conscious and vulnerable, which was undoubtedly the point.

His eyes met mine as his fingers continued their intoxicating pattern. “Your scars are almost like a language. There’s a story right here on your skin, just waiting for me to discover it.”

I wanted to respond to that, to tell him how much his eloquence had touched me, but before I could he leaned in and kissed me. His lips were strong, possessive. It almost seemed as if he were declaring sole rights to me with his mouth and tongue, erasing all prior claims.

It was overwhelming, terrifying but exciting all at once. Rational thought quickly slipped away, and all I had left to me was raw emotion and sensation. I began to respond to his kiss, leaning into him and nibbling at his bottom lip with a startling eagerness. Severus drew away suddenly, and I groaned with dismay. I needn’t have worried; he wasn’t abandoning me, rather refocusing me on an entirely new sensation. He leaned over me, flicking and twisting his lips and tongue over one nipple and then the other. 

I began to gasp; there was an intensity to the experience that was utterly foreign to me. It was almost as if I were having a mild orgasm in the upper half of my body. Severus never quite let me move beyond a shuddering groan before turning his attention elsewhere. But just when I began to despair that he would abandon this new exquisite sensation, he would return to my chest unexpectedly, surprising me and heightening the experience once more. 

Severus rolled on top of my body quite unexpectedly, and forced my hands over my head. I tensed a bit, unused to this new sense of vulnerability, but he reclaimed my lips with a shocking intensity that completely overpowered any hesitation on my part. He released my arms, though it took me several minutes to even notice. Then he ran his hands down my arms, beneath my armpits, and down the sides of my body. “I’ve waited far too long for this, far too long,” Severus murmured, nibbling on my earlobe, “and I intend to make it last.”

I groaned and shifted beneath him, desperately trying to make my own needs a little more obvious. I needn’t have bothered, of course, Severus was acutely aware of my reactions and moved to pin my hands again. He was reminding me that he would be setting the pace, and that I must and would submit. 

He reinforced the message with another intense kiss, his tongue ravishing mine. Severus pulled away long enough to remove his sweater, but returned to lay on top of me once more. The feeling of flesh on flesh was profoundly different, an exotic kind of heat, so unlike that of Dora or the other women I’d been with. Severus was a furnace of sharp edges and heavy limbs. He ground his hips into my erection, and my hands wrapped unconsciously around the metal bars of the headboard. I forgot my fear, it was swallowed whole by an intensity of desire, of sheer, unmitigated lust that I realized Aurors could rush at that moment and I wouldn’t begin to notice. Nothing existed beyond Severus’ voice, his merciless ministrations, his feverish skin on mine.

I clung desperately to the headboard as if it were my only lifeline. In the span of only a few minutes he'd reminded me I had muscles that generally only made their presence known during a change. For the first time their re-discovery brought me intense pleasure, and I moaned aloud with a mixture of relief and gratitude.

Severus paused in his delicious attentions, leaving me panting and stretched taut beside him. He gazed down at me, his head tilted slightly to one side and his eyes half-lidded. He guided my legs up closer to my body, knees up and feet flat on the bed. He tilted my hips up slightly, which I felt was some sort of signal I should be able to interpret. Sadly, I hadn’t a clue what to expect next.

Severus seemed to reach a sudden conclusion, and leaned over to the side table to retrieve a quill. He ran it thoughtfully over his own lips for a moment. With just a hint of a smile, he then played it over my own lips tracing each one with studied consideration. 

As fascinating as the sensation was, it didn't begin to address the aching need that kept my body as tightly strung as a bow. I almost voiced aloud my desire, but some innate sense of pride, or perhaps self-preservation, made me bite my tongue at the last moment. I'd agreed to his terms and given myself over to him, I'd abide by my decision and have faith in whatever he intended to do with my body.

The feather continued its exploration of my face, jaw, then throat, tracing a cool, tingling line down my body. When he reached my nipples, I gasped aloud. The intensity of the sensation was unexpected, to say the least. 'Surely he'll stop there,' my mind began to babble, 'surely he won't leave me like this another second.'

Severus smiled then, and as if he'd plucked the thought from my mind, replied aloud, “There is one little matter we’re going to have to attend to. I’m going to have to hear you say ‘James Potter was an ass’.”

I couldn't stop myself from blurting out, "What?"

The damned feather continued is sinuous path along my abdomen, making my entire body twitch and start like a frightened cat. I groaned again, and flexed my sweaty hands briefly to restore circulation, before grabbing on tightly to the headboard once more. His voice was almost a purr, "Come now, there’s nothing wrong with your hearing. Say the words ‘James Potter was an ass’.”

“And if I don’t?”

“Oh, now let me think.” I was quickly starting to hate that bloody feather of his as it began to spiral lower and tantalizingly lower still. “How can I possibly convince you to do as I’ve asked?” When he drew it along the underside of my cock I thought I might very well die.

I yelped and threw my head back, painfully connecting with the metal bars of the headboard. When I remembered, rather belatedly, how to breath again I managed a hoarse, “You sadistic bastard!”

“That’s not even close,” he sighed as if I were a particularly dull student. 

“Not…” 

The feather swooped between my balls. 

“…even…” 

It twirled around my shaft and I whimpered. 

“…close.”

When he reached the tip I forgot everything, my name, my sense of pride, my deep and profound respect for the memory of James Potter…everything. Well, everything except those five bloody words. All I had to do was say them aloud, that was all. Of course with all of my blood currently otherwise engaged, my poor brain was having a difficult time with the concept of articulation. “Ehn…”

“What was that? I’m sorry, I couldn’t quite make it out.”

“James…” I moaned as he continued to torture me with exquisite thoroughness and attention to detail. Typical.

“Yes?”

“James Potter…”

The feather trailed lower still, circled around my anus and then just over my cheeks. “Nearly there.”

“James Potter,” I howled, quite certain I was going to yank the metal bars from the headboard, and if I did, that I’d beat Severus senseless with them. “James Potter was an ass…you bloody sadist!”

“Well,” he drawled, giving the feather a twirl on the very tip of my penis, “that last bit was a little uncalled for, still points for effort I suppose.” He tossed the quill carelessly aside and leaned in close to my ear again. “Now,” his tone had changed from light and playful to deadly serious between one breath and another, “say you want me to take you, say you’ll never want anyone else to touch like this.” He sounded a little short of breath himself, “Say that you belong to me…utterly.” 

I babbled shamelessly at that point, I would’ve said anything he asked, made any Unbreakable Vow he demanded. I’ve no idea what came out of my mouth, but it seemed sufficient as Severus quickly and gracelessly removed his pants, and shoved my legs even closer to my body. 

His touches became more insistent, rougher but in an exciting way. His hands and mouth seemed to be everywhere at once, teasing my cock, my nipples, my fluttering abdomen. I couldn’t think, couldn’t hold a single thought in my buzzing brain beyond the refrain of ‘Yes, yes, yes.’ If he didn’t take me, didn’t grant me release I knew I would expire right then and there.

He abandoned me and I actually sobbed aloud, but it was only long enough to spread my legs wide. ‘Now at last,’ I told myself, ‘now he’ll let me come.’ But he didn’t use that talented mouth of his on my aching shaft as I’d hoped, no, prayed. Instead he moved his thumbs between my cheeks, revealing the most intimate parts of myself. And then his tongue was teasing my anus with moist, cool, gentle caresses.

To say that the sensation was unexpected would be a profound understatement. It was pleasant, of course, but so very odd too. I believe I was a little embarrassed, at least at first, but the sentiment had absolutely no chance in the wake of wave after wave of raw lust and need. 

Around and around, in and out, just when I’d gotten used to one rhythm he’d begin another. There was no time to process anything, to begin to grasp what was happening to me. All I could do was curl my fingers and toes so tightly they cramped, but it was that small pain that kept me from being utterly lost in passion.

Once again all sensation stopped with a suddenness that brought me back to myself. He was kneeling on the bed at my feet, and I could feel his stiff shaft pressed against me. This was it. He was waiting for some sign from me, an indication that I wanted him to stop, I thought. Even then he would’ve ended everything with just one word from me. I’d been so powerless the entire time, utterly slave to his will, and then suddenly I was expected to decide both our fates for the evening.

There was only one thing I could do, only one thing I could say, and so I said it. “Yes. Yes, Severus. Yes.”

There was such intense relief on his face for the briefest moment, before he allowed himself to smile. “I can’t promise you that this won’t be somewhat…uncomfortable at first,” he rumbled in his deep, dear voice, “but try to relax. And above all, trust me.”

In the same movement he entered me and forced my legs back nearly to my ears to kiss me. I drew a ragged breath as soon as I was able. ‘Uncomfortable’ was not the word I would’ve chosen to describe the experience, not by a long road. It was exquisitely painful, almost reminiscent of a change; muscles stretching in an alarming manner, but without the grinding, vicious agony of twisting bones and flesh. There was a pause while Severus waited for me, we breathed together then, and slowly but surely I relaxed. As I did so the pain faded into the background and became a mere nuisance, easily ignored in favor of the building pleasure that overwhelmed me once more.

And then Severus began to move, pumping in and out of me while his hand wrapped around my cock, sliding up and down with a brilliant rhythm. I could do nothing but buck against him, calling out his name over and over. On and on we moved together, I desperately wanted to touch him, but he’d put my hands above my head and that was where they would stay.

It couldn’t have lasted long, I’d been hovering on the edge for an eternity already, and I wasn’t as young as I’d once been. He thrust once more, and with a choking cry we both came. Every ounce of tension and energy I’d had left to me was gone between one breath and the next. Fortunately for me, Severus retained some little strength and was able to move off of me and collapse bonelessly beside me.

After a few seconds, he collected himself, and moved to straighten out my legs and arrange me in a more comfortable position. I was intensely grateful to him for doing so, because at that point I couldn’t do a thing for myself. His attentions didn’t end there, however, he leaned down once more to claim my lips before moving from the bed.

I managed to turn my head enough to watch him walk into the bathroom. His body was no longer quite as lean as it had been. He’d grown softer over the years, muscle giving way to the ravages of middle age. But where once I might have found fault that now so closely resembled my own, I suddenly felt the most astonishing affection. Not…love, no, but perhaps the beginnings of it.

He’d found a language in my body, I could only guess what I would find in his, if he would allow me.

Severus returned, padding silently across the carpeted floor. He pushed a lock of hair from my eyes, his thumb lingering to caress my forehead gently. Then he wiped me clean, washing away the semen with a warm, wet cloth. I sighed softly and was content to watch him, drowsy and complacent in my utter satisfaction.

When he’d finished he lay the still warm cloth over my now depleted cock and I finally understood what true bliss was. Indeed, I couldn’t have conceived of a more wonderful feeling. My eyes began to droop, despite my best efforts, but Severus didn’t seem to mind. “Go to sleep,” he whispered, lying beside me once more, “my beautiful Remus.”

And, as in all things, I obeyed him.

 

When I woke up the sun was pouring through the windows and directly onto my face. I blinked sleepily and immediately looked around for Severus. I couldn’t see him anywhere, and wondered if perhaps he was in the bathroom. “Severus?”

There was no answer, so I called out again, more loudly this time, “Severus?” I sat up, and the light blanket that had been thrown over me slid down to my hips. “Severus?” My body was aching and sore, but I felt better rested than I had in ages. I got to my feet and wandered around the room, profoundly confused. Where in the world had he gone, and why had he left me there sleeping?

Aside from myself, however, the room was empty. I found my clothes cleaned and neatly folded on a small table beside the window. Atop them was my wand and a small note. I read it quickly.  
 _  
‘Remus,_

_I trust you’ve slept well, and I hope you found last evening as deeply gratifying as I did. I regret that I couldn’t linger this morning, but as a fugitive from the law I’ve found it wise to remain in nearly perpetual motion. It seems a small enough price to pay for my freedom, and I must say it suits me better than the enforced inertia of the past few years._

_Don’t believe for a moment that I’m abandoning you. I shouldn’t want to live with your complete collapse on my conscience a second time. So I ask you to do several things. First, be so good as to follow my original instructions and use the notes I gave you to publish something decent about the case. The drivel I’ve read passing for journalism recently is appalling._

_Second, in the pocket of your robes you’ll find sufficient funds to pay for your basic needs. Use it and look after yourself properly._

_Third, put wards up on the house, key them to the name “Stubby Boardman”. I will visit when I can, as discreetly as possible, of course._

_Finally, finish the bloody book I gave you._

_If you should need to contact me urgently I may be reached by owl under the name Sebastian Moran._

_Yours,  
Severus_

_PS- The room is booked until tomorrow at eleven o’clock, I suggest you make the most of it.’_

I smiled to myself, oh I’d make the most of it, he could be sure of that. Turning my face into the sun, I closed my eyes and let its warmth sink into me. He hadn’t left me, I wasn’t alone. I wasn’t alone.

Perhaps it wasn’t love, not yet, but it might be in time. And now I had all the time in the world.

 

The End

***

End notes:  
Floriography- I used the following resource to create the messages in the potions: http://www.victorianbazaar.com/meanings.html

The meanings behind the poisons in Scale of Dragon, Tooth of Wolf:

Neville Longbottom: (Confervefacio Potion) Camellia, White Rose, Cedar = Unpretending excellence, I am Worthy of You, Strength

Pansy Parkinson: (Exsangius Potion) White Clover, Coltsfoot, Heliotrope= Think of Me, Justice Shall be done, Faithfulness 

Dolores: (Torridus Potion) Syrian Mallow, Mezereon, Clematis’= Consumed by Love, Desire to Please, Mental Beauty

For the layout of Spinner’s End, I used the following essay on the HP Lexicon for a basic idea of the way the house might be set up:  
http://www.hp-lexicon.org/essays/essay-spinners-end.html


End file.
